


Love Thy Enemy

by SeriouslySirius9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Descent into Madness, F/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Powerful Hermione, Room of Requirement, Smart Draco Malfoy, Smart Hermione Granger, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriouslySirius9/pseuds/SeriouslySirius9
Summary: Hermione is lost after witnessing the murder of a young girl the summer before her sixth year. Without her friend's support she is left to find a way to prepare for the war that no one else will acknowledge. When desperate times call for desperate measures, Hermione is the only one to step up and show the world that the best way to defeat your enemy is to get to know them.Mostly Canon through book 5 with some slight tweaks.





	1. The Last Summer

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on fanfiction.net and Quotev btw but I may take them down to just leave it here.  
> Fair warning, I'm not great at updating but I really wanted to post this because I think its some of by best work so far and I worked on it for a long time so I hope you enjoy. :)  
> ~Ember

     On a typical first day at Hogwarts, the halls are teeming with the eccentricity and life that comes from a magical school. The bright sun harshly pierces through the windows onto the happy students’ faces, as they innocently make their way to class. The first years, stumblingly fools that they are, take every wrong turn they can manage only half on accident. They devour the sights of each new turn greedily, trying their best to memorize every nook and cranny that could possibly lead to adventure.

     Then, there are also the middle- graded students. The ones who aren’t exactly as excited for the start of new term now that they know that the magical part of school still does not take away the fact that Hogwarts, is in fact, still school. They trudge around wearily, kicking at the dirt under their shoes until they remember all those friends they left behind during their long summer holiday. Suddenly, those fresh smiles once again bloom on their faces and they remember all the fun they can have at this place.

     Lastly, there are those older students, the ones who have sat through countless dreary hours of Professor Binns and found all that they can to get into mischief around the castle. The ones that look upon those fresh faces and shake their heads, partially in remembrance of their own beginnings at Hogwarts, and partially because they know exactly how underprepared they all are. They look upon those bubbling children who will someday replace them and decide that yes, Hogwarts was a good place for a long while. It was a place for mischief, a second home, and the best institute for magical education that the world had seen. However, in that moment in which they all walk together as one in that sunny little corridor, those older students know in their hearts it is time for them to leave it all behind. Time to relinquish their hold on a place that for so long as been a companion. Time to start a new life away from the moving stairs and cozy dormitories, filled with the crackling of half-learned magic. Time to surrender to the idea of a new place in society where they are free to make their own decisions. So as these students visualize their futures, they are filled with hope.

     However, the castle does not always have hope to warm its ancient bones. Just hours later, when those very same halls are devoid of the light-hearted students who love to occupy them, a new, much dimmer aura settles deep within the depths of Hogwarts. It was a rolling fog that crept from the cracks in the old stone walls as the sun was swallowed by the horizon. The waning crescent moon barely let off enough light to flit through the naked, empty windows that made the shadows sink into the walls around them. The ancient, arthritic bones of the castle wailed in agony as the fleeting summer warmth was overtaken. Whispers of icy wind clawed their way down the halls and into the frosted glass panes.

     The solemn clamor of the clocktower marked the time as twelve at night, nearly two hours after curfew for nearly all the witches and wizards who attended Hogwarts. Yet, pacing through the halls on the 7th floor, was Hermione Granger.

     Her bushy brown hair whipped through the air as she angrily stomped through the corridor, not completely caring if she was caught out of bed after hours. She knew she could always blame her absence from the Gryffindor dormitory on one of her many prefect duties. It wasn’t like anyone was going to question her intentions anyway. She was, after all, Hermione Granger: Golden girl know-it-all dubbed not only as the Gryffindor Princess, but also as the brightest witch of her age. No one, save Professor Snape, would suspect her of lying.

     Normally, Hermione considered herself to have pretty good morals. She didn’t like to lie, steal, or cheat for any reason, but ever since that summer it had been difficult for Hermione to find good reason not to. So what if she didn’t play by the rules? It’s not like he would either…

     As per usual, Hermione had spent a large portion of time over the summer at the Burrow with Ron and Harry. It was one of her favorite places to be in the world, and to an extent, felt more like home than the one she shared with her parents. As much as she loved her parents, Hermione knew they would never truly understand her life in the Wizarding community like the Weasley’s did. They were so warm and kind to her that Hermione couldn’t help but fall in love with the cozy magical family. In turn, Ron’s parents also couldn’t help but fall in love with Hermione. They treated her like a daughter and secretly wished that someday they could call her such.

     Arthur Weasley especially took a shining to the muggle born girl, as he was fascinated by her vast knowledge about all that was happening in the muggle world. He often suggested to her that she and Harry come with him to the Ministry for a day to really get a better understanding of how the magical world outside of Hogwarts works. Every year, Hermione had politely declined his offer, assuming it was mostly just an excuse so he could ask her different questions about muggle items. However, that summer on a particularly brutally hot day, she had finally accepted his invitation. That is how she found herself at the Ministry the day everything changed.

     That day, both Harry and Ron had both politely, yet firmly, refused to accompany Arthur and Hermione, claiming that the hot weather was perfect for Quidditch.

     “Thanks Mione, but no thanks. Besides, you’ll have more fun with dad on your own anyway. You’re the only one who cares about all that ministry nonsense,” Ron noted without even looking up from his game of Wizard’s Chess.

     “Checkmate! Blimey Harry, you really haven’t gotten any better at this have you?”

     “Shut up, you prat. Yeah, no offense Hermione, but I’d much rather hop on a broom than spend my entire afternoon answering questions about the muggle world. I’m sure you’ll have a blast though.” Harry turned back to the game at hand, not noticing the blood boil in Hermione’s face.

     “Fine, you two miserable gits! At least _someone_ is concerned with their future!”

     Hermione didn’t bother to point out they didn’t even have enough players for a proper game before storming off to the fireplace to wait for Arthur. The floo network was something that she wasn’t particularly familiar with, so she stood patiently by the fire, huffing at the audacity of her two best friends.  How dare they leave her to fend for herself! She would never have done such a thing if it was Harry who was going.

     There was suddenly a gust of wind that swept through her hair before the fireplace erupted into bright green flames. Arthur Weasley stepped from the fire, brushing off dust as he went.

     “Ah, Hermione! Punctual as usual, of course! All ready to head off to the ministry I take it?”

     “Of course, Arthur. I’m sure it will be interesting to see where I’ll probably be working after I graduate.”

     “Wonderful! And where are those two knuckle-headed boys? Are they ready to go yet?” He asked her. Hermione rolled her eyes as she gestured to the other room where she was sure Ron and Harry were still playing.

     “I’m afraid they won’t be joining us. Something about Quidditch apparently.” She pursed her lips in annoyance.

     “Quidditch, ey?” Arthur popped his head around the corner to see the two boys still locked in a brutal game of chess. “Ships leaving boys. You had better hurry up and get dressed to go. Unless of course there’s a game of Quidditch more important than your respective futures?”

     “N-n-no, course not dad!” Ron stuttered out. “It’s just… well…” he searched frantically around the room until his eyes landed on a tiny gnome figurines. “I-i-it’s just we promised mum to help de-gnome the garden again. You know how how bad that gets.”

     “Ahh, I see. Splendid then! Your mother will be thrilled to have you two help her! I expect a full report from you and your mum when we get back. Nasty little things, but sure to make a great story!” Harry and Ron exchanged uneasy looks as Arthur left the room to accompany a smirking Hermione.

     “That should teach them to ditch us, shouldn’t it?” Arthur whispered low enough so that just she could hear.

     “Oh, I’d imagine it will,” she smiled. The head Weasley pulled out an old muggle pocket watch from the breast pocket of his robe. His eyes went wide when he saw the time.

     “Blimey! We better get a move on if we are going to get anything done today.” He replaced the watch in his pocket before shouting in the direction of Ron and Harry. “Good luck with the gnomes you two!”

     There was an unenthusiastic reply before Arthur grabbed something off of the top of the fireplace. He held out a bowl of greyish powder and Hermione took a large handful. It felt grainy and left an unpleasant dusty feeling on the palm of her hands. She tried to hide the disgust on her face as she waited for instructions from the elder Weasley. He barely noticed, as he was grinning ear to ear when he grabbed his own handful.

     “Now remember, as long as you speak clearly, you’ll arrive at the Ministry just behind me and we can begin the tour with the Department of Muggle Artifacts. Though, I’m sure you have plenty of knowledge on that topic yourself!”

     It was funny, Hermione had never really seen much of a connection between Ron and has dad before, besides the skinny frames and flaming red hair of course. However, in that moment of erratic excitement, she could see Ron. She could see him gushing about all his favorite teams in Quidditch, or the best strategies for wizard chess. She could see the different ways the paternal Weasley’s eyebrows would raise in fascination just like his sons did. Hermione felt her heart melt just a tad and thought that perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

     Arthur Weasley stepped in front of the fire and threw in his handful of floo powder. The fire erupted in a swirling cloud of green flames before him.

     “The Ministry!” he shouted, before stepping into the fire and letting the flames engulf him whole. Hermione waited a few seconds before throwing her own powder in and following him to the ministry. The moment her body touched the fire she felt a horrible pulling sensation rip through her. It was very similar to what it was like to apparate except it seemed like she had no control of the direction that her body was being pulled.

     Awkwardly, Hermione landed on her feet. She stumbled out into a sea of people who did little to move out of her way as she tried to regain her composure. The nice business robes she had worn for the trip had been thoroughly covered in a fine layer of soot and dust. Dirty looks were shot her way as she tried to pat as much of it as she could off of her. A wand waved in front of her face and suddenly all of the grey smudges were removed from her linens. A sheepish looking Arthur Weasley stood before her.

     “Eh, best to just use scourgify for those here. No need to use the old fashioned way. Now come on, plenty of things to see.” He quickly dragged her away from the fires with a seemingly embarrassed look on his face. Of course, Hermione didn’t quite understand then that “the muggle way” of doing things was not always appreciated in the heart of the magical government. It wasn’t out right forbidden or mocked, but some certainly looked down upon it. The same goes for purchasing low-quality floo powder that leaves scorch marks in the first place.

     “Eh, Arthur?” she asked.

     “Yes, Hermione?” he responded.

     “Have you forgot that I’m still not quite old enough to use magic outside of Hogwarts?” He stopped to look at her.

     “That’s right… you don’t turn 17 until September, is that right?”

     “September 19th is my birthday,” she affirmed.

     “Sorry, it’s just you act so much more mature that sometimes I forget you’re still a child.” He paused for a second. “Well, no harm has been done anyway, let’s be on our way before-”

     Hermione barely had any time to examine her surroundings before a familiar voice cut him off.

     “Well, if it isn’t Arthur Weasley. And what’s this? Brought a unauthorized visitor into the Ministry?”

     They both stopped dead in their tracks. Hermione saw Arthur’s face twist into an ugly grimace before they slowly turned to face the owner of the voice. In front of them, clad in what must have been ridiculously expensive robes, were none other than Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The father and son stood together tall and proud, their platinum hair slicked back in a preposterously formal way. The two sets of stone grey eyes looked down upon Hermione and Arthur like they weren’t even fit to touch their garbage. Knowing the Malfoys, Hermione suspected that is exactly what they thought. Lucius’s lips were drawn back in a snarled smile while his son kept his face completely blank, letting his entitlement be all the expression he needed.

     “Lucius!” Arthur tried to fake a smile that ended up looking more like he was awkwardly baring his teeth. “I wasn’t aware you were working today.”

     “You shouldn’t presume to know anything about me.” His eyes shifted to Hermione and she felt her heart leap into her throat. There was something incredibly deadly about that stare that made her hairs stand on end.

     “This is uh- Hermione Granger, one of my son’s friends. She’s got a very bright future and I thought it would be- well- beneficial for her to gain some knowledge about the Ministry,” Arthur rambled on, trying to explain himself.

     “Ah yes the… muggleborn. Draco’s told me all about you and your little friends. All the mischief and rule breaking you do,” Lucius drawled. Hermione’s eyes flicked to Draco momentarily before landing back on his father. “You know Arthur, it really sounds like she could be a liability. Especially if you didn’t completely the proper paperwork before bringing her here. You did do the paperwork didn’t you?” Arthur shifted nervously.

     “Well, I… well no but-”

     “Tisk, tisk. I should’ve expected this from you Weasley. I suggest we sort this out immediately.”

     “What is he talking about Mr. Weasley?” Hermione questioned. She had never heard of any paperwork needing to be done for visitors before. This sounded absolutely ridiculous. He took a long deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

     “It’s best to just not argue and do what he says. I can explain it after this is all over. Come along Hermione.” They began to walk past the Malfoy’s before Lucius drew his wands and pointed it discreetly at Hermione. Her eyes lit up in alarm as she instinctively itched to draw her own.

     “What are you doing Malfoy? She’s just a girl!” Arthur harshly whispered, shoving Hermione behind him protectively.

     "We can’t have unauthorized muggleborns roaming around, looking at classified information can we?” Lucius reached into the front pocket of his robes and fished out a silver ring of keys. He handed them to Draco who continued to hold the same blank expression as before. “Draco will look after her while we fix your disastrous mistake.” Before Arthur could say another word he was dragged off, leaving a confused Hermione in his wake.

     For a moment it was just Hermione and Draco. Brown eyes meeting grey, staring stoically at each other. A dare on each of them to make the first move. Hermione contemplated for a second if she should make a run for it. The moment her eyes left his to scan the area she felt a strong hand grip her arm and drag her off into the direction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

     Draco’s grip was firm on her arm and Hermione knew there was no way she could get out without making a scene. She scanned the faces around her, coming to the conclusion that it was a terribly bad idea to do that in present company. At best, she would get free only to be caught by another fascist wizard before she made it to an available fireplace. At worst, she could possibly be getting Mr. Weasley in a lot of trouble. Hermione decided it was better to just grit her teeth and act like nothing was wrong until she could find a reasonable time to hex the pants off the boy next to her.

     They walked like that for a brief while. Two enemies locked together in hatred. Hermione suspected he was taking her to some sort of holding cell, or public place to lock her up until Arthur could find her. However, she was quite surprised when Draco pulled her aside and unlocked a private room. Inside it appeared to be some sort of unused office with a thick layer of dust over every surface. He quickly shut the door behind him with the flick of his wand and left the two in complete silence.

     Great, Hermione thought, it seemed like he didn’t have any problems with the use of underage magic. To her it certainly seemed to be a power move, showing off his use of magic in the Ministry of all places. It screamed of cockiness, which is exactly what he was. She examined her surroundings in preparation for whatever hexes she would have to dodge in the near future. All the while he just stared at her with the same empty expression.

     “Unauthorized muggleborn,” She muttered to herself, quoting Lucius from earlier. “How barbaric. Who does he think he is with his… stupid hair and pretentious clothing. Who ever heard of paperwork for visitors anyway?” She was pacing back and forth behind a desk at the back of the room.

     “Things have changed around here, Granger. I’d be careful what you say.” It was the first time Draco had said anything this entire time. She snapped her head up to stare at him.

     “Oh, and I’m sure you’re just thrilled about all of these so called ‘changes’.” She made quotation marks in the air with her hands.

     “I never said that.”

     “You didn’t really have to. These ideals scream of Malfoy. I wouldn’t be surprised if this thing wasn’t completely your muggle-hating father’s idea.”

     “You’d be correct with that assumption,” he deadpanned as he picked at the beds of his nails. A silence passed between the two until Hermione couldn’t take it anymore.

     “Well?” Draco looked up at her once more.

     “Well what?”

     “Well, aren’t you going to call me a good-for-nothing mudblood, tie me up and hex me until I beg for mercy or something like that? Isn’t that why you brought me here?” His eyebrow raised considerably and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly before he responded.

     “Why? Is that what you want me to do to you, Granger? Tie you up?”

     “No, its just-”

     “Because in my world, I certainly wouldn’t associate pain with that.”

     Hermione’s face scrunched up with confusion. Draco watch bemused as that big brain of her’s tried to work out what he had just said. He knew instantly when she had because her face lit up to match the same shade of red Gryffindors wear on their robes.

     “Ugh! You’re bloody disturbed Draco Malfoy! I don’t even understand how you could say something so vulgar.” He let out a light chuckle which struck Hermione as rather odd. She had been going to school with him for years now and not once had she heard him laugh.

     “You just wouldn’t understand. I’m sure you’re underdeveloped in that area. Hell, I’d wager 50 galleons you’re still a virgin. 50 more that you won’t lose it until after you’ve graduated.”

     “You don’t know anything about me, Malfoy,” Hermione huffed with both annoyance and embarrassment.”

     “Unless of course, Weasel-Bee has finally convinced you to let him stick you with his ginger prick.” She was absolutely fuming.

     “It’s none of your fucking business what I do or do not do with my body. You don’t know anything about me and I can’t believe I’ve even let this conversation get this far.”

     “Did you just swear? I didn’t even know you had the capability.” Draco remarked.

     “Yeah, well, someone like you wouldn’t know, would they?” His eyes darkened slightly.

     “What do you mean someone like me?”

     “I mean a horrible git who hates people based off the false notion that their blood makes them less of a person. How many times do I have to beat you in magic to prove that blood doesn’t mean anything about magical power? You’re all just ignorant monsters.”

     Draco pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on and began to walk towards her. Bloody hell, she should have kept her mouth shut. He could do magic here and there was no way she could defend herself without him turning it against her. He stopped about a foot or two in front of her.

     “When was the last time I called you a mudblood?” This took her back slightly.

     “What?”

     “Use that big brain of yours for a second. Think, when was the last time I called you that?” She searched her mind for a second and was a little shocked to not immediately have found an answer.

     “Well? Have you figured it out yet?” He asked, uncomfortably close.

     “Um,” she paused, “I-I think maybe late fourth year? Or maybe early fifth? “

     “Wrong. The last time I called you mudblood was a month before the yule ball after charms when you once again scored higher than me on the exam. It has been a year and a half since I’ve bothered you and you still treat me as if I’m the worst thing to walk on this planet when we both know I’m far from it. What do you think that says about you, Hermione?”

     It was rare for someone to render Hermione speechless. She was, in this case, for a multitude of reasons. The first, which she almost didn’t notice, was that Draco had called her by her first name for the first time. The second being that she hadn’t even noticed he’d left her alone. Now that she thought about it, all the bullying she received from Slytherin house had dropped dramatically in the last year or so. The last thing being that for once somebody made Hermione question herself in ways she never thought she would before. He was right afterall. She kept making horrible assumptions even though she knew as much about him as he did of her.

     “Why? Why did you stop?” At this point Draco had finally backed away slightly and was leaning on the desk.

     “I had my reasons. Mostly, it was just tiring to believe in something that I saw evidence against on a daily basis. I’m not daft, Granger. I’m a very intelligent wizard, but no matter how much I tried I could never beat you in anything.”

     She could tell he was suppressing the bitterness that so readily formed on his tongue. Hermione could see it in the way his blonde brows raised with a shrug of his shoulders, a clever disguise that would have fooled most. Usually, Hermione would have called out his confessions to reveal whatever his true intentions were, but in that moment she found herself trying to empathize with those steel grey eyes that looked casually in the distance.

     Hermione opened her mouth a few times in an attempt to respond but the moment she began to sputter out anything remotely close to a cognitive sentence the sounds of a tortured scream ripped through them. It was a memory that burned through Hermione and left a mark on her very soul, for this would be the sound she would always remember to be true anguish. It felt almost as if in the few seconds she stood there that she could feel the pain radiating through the air. It was for that reason that in the next moment, without thinking, she bolted.

     The halls were a frenzie as she ran. People everywhere shared horrified glances, ran for the cover of office spaces, pressed flat palms over their injured ears. Hermione thought for a moment she heard the distant sounds of her name as she ran towards the shrieks, but nothing could stop her from catapulting her way through the masses. She was an arrow that pierced the crowds of people gathered in the middle of the ministry square, pushing her way to the front until her pointed head broke through.

     All the breath in the room was gone as her eyes locked with the sight before her. A girl just older than Hermione herself stood at the center of the crowd. Her mouth wired open by some contraption that hooked through her lips and pulled them back so her entire mouth was on display. Just past the girls teeth was no tongue, but the bleeding flesh of ones remains. The dark liquid pooled in her mouth and down the sides of her chin only to be sputtered out whenever it would block the sounds from her throat.

     “Granger what are you- Holy shit!” Draco exclaimed as he finally caught up to Hermione, grabbing her hand to try and stop her escape before he too saw the girl in the circle. The moment he saw her he became petrified next to Hermione, hand locked with hers as he watched the scene unfold before him.

     The girl in question looked around frantically. Her eyes trying to find someone, anyone who could help her as she unsheathed something from her robes. For a second Hermione thought it was a wand until the sickening glint of silver reflected from the dimly lit torches. The girl waved it around in the air, still searching the people around her until her wild eyes landed on Hermione.

     It was a look Hermione had never seen before. The girls eyes were not cloudy or unfocused like she was the victim of a stray Imperius. No, this girl knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. It was a hauntingly hopeless expression of a tortured soul.

     Those eyes never left Hermione as she used the blade to cut the sleeves of her soft blue camisole just past her elbow, exposing the tanned flesh of her wrists and forearms. Without hesitation her right hand pressed the blade into her left arm. Slowly, deliberately, she dragged it lengthwise from the bulging blue vein in her wrist to 3 centimeters from the crook of her arm. The blood that ran from her wound did not stop her from dragging the knife again across her second wrist until the cuts were mirror images of each other.

     The knife clamored to the floor as the girl rushed to the center of the circle once more, kneeling before the great fountain that stood proudly for anyone in the ministry to see. She pressed the fingers of her left hand deeply into her right wound, coating them completely until the skin of her entire hand was red. One by one she wrote the letters on the stone floor until they spelled out a single word: _Concido_.

     As soon as the final “o” was marked upon the ground she finally fell over convulsing briefly before going completely still, a single gashed arm extended in Hermione’s direction.

     Draco’s stomach turned as he watched the pool of blood creep closer and closer to where they stood. No one moved. No one breathed. The only sound to be heard was a single tear falling from Hermione’s eyes to mix with the crimson at her feet.

     In a second the world began to move again. People ran in every direction, screaming, shouting, praying. A few stood to the side trying their best not to heave at the sight of the mangled corpse before them. All the while Hermione and Draco stood still, hands still locked together like a vice. They looked at each other for a moment, maybe two, as the panic engulfed them knowing full well that this was just the beginning.

     It didn’t take long after that for Arthur to find her and whisk her away to the Burrow where a worried Molly stood waiting. A blanket and a cup of tea later and Hermione was escorted to her shared room with Ginny by Ron and Harry, eager to hear about what had happened. She numbly relayed the details she could stomach while they listened intently.

     “Bloody hell Mione. What a terrible thing to happen. I heard Dad come in before you, askin if anyone had seen you all frantic like. Goin on about how some muggle born had be murdered at the ministry.” Ron whispered, praying that no one downstairs heard them.

     “A muggle born?” Hermione questioned.

     “Yeah, that’s what I said. Though me mum was about to have a heart attack before Dad returned with you. Really though, I’ve never ‘eard something like this happening in the open. I can’t even imagine what kind of person would do that.”

     “Are you serious, Ronald? Do you even know what _Concido_ means?” She asked dumbfounded. How could he possibly not put two and two together?

     “Can’t expect me to know everything Mione. It’s not like I’ve taken a class in words crazy people write in blood.”

     “Even if you did you wouldn’t know what it meant,” Harry interjected causing Ron to snort with laughter. Hermione was not amused however, and couldn’t understand how those two had the ability to joke about something this serious. With a shaky hand grabbed her beaded bag from the nightstand and rummaged through it until she felt the soft spine of the book she was looking for.

     “What’s that?” Harry asked as he pointed to the book in question while Hermione flipped through the pages.

     “With N.E.W.T.’s coming up soon I wanted to prepare.” The boys exchanged a knowing look at her dedication to study. “Anyway I learned quite some time ago that many of the spells we use actually are based off of Latin words or roots. Naturally I assumed that if I had a better grasp in Latin I would be able to figure out what a spell or potion was just by being able to decipher what its title means in Latin. Therefore, I began taking a summer course when I visit my parents since there is a Catholic school a few blocks from where we live. They were happy to take me in and teach me all I needed to know.”

     “Bloody hell, only Hermione would find it interesting to take a class over break. You’re bloody mental sometimes, Mione.”

     “So you’ve told me, Ronald,” Hermione replied with a fake smile. “Ah, here it is. _Concido_ . Latin is a language full of violence and treachery so it is no surprise that in this chapter we yet again learn another word that means to kill. _Concido_ is a third conjugation verb used very frequently throughout ancient texts that means to cut, slice, destroy, maim, or kill. While it seems like _Concido_ had many translations in the end it always means one thing: Death.” Hermione concluded the passage with a slight shutter and closed the book.

     “Could that have been any creepier?” Harry asked with a forced chuckle.

     “Obviously you two don’t understand,” Hermione’s nose flared in anger as she stared at her best friends. “She wrote kill in her own blood. In ‘dirty blood’. Can’t you see it’s a warning? It means they are going to kill anyone they deem to have dirty or impure blood. This was an obvious attack from the death eaters.” Ron exchanged uneasy looks.

     “You think it could really be Voldemort?” Harry inquired looking a little green.

     “In my mind, it really couldn’t be anything else. It’s the start of something bigger than us all, and I’m afraid if we don’t prepare for it, then it will take us down with it.”

     “I don’t know, Mione. I really don’t think they would risk an attack so openly with all those Aurors around,” Ron said while scratching the faint red stubble on his chin. “I mean their numbers are way too low for them to put themselves in danger this soon. I’m sure you’re right about something bigger coming, but now? I don’t think so. It just doesn’t make sense.”

     “It makes perfect sense! It’s a blatant terrorist attack meant to throw our side in un-organized chaos and fear while they establish their footing. At least Harry agrees with me,” Hermione argued. However, when she looked at Harry he looked down, guilt covering his face.

     “Actually, I’m not so sure. Ron makes a good point with everything. Things just aren’t lining up enough for it to be Voldemort. Maybe one of his followers, but not someone in the inner circle with orders to do this. It’s not their style. Way too… messy.” He finished with a gulp.

     “You can’t actually be serious. You don’t actually believe someone as monstrous as Voldemort has limits. Has morals. What I saw today couldn’t have been done by anyone but the most deranged kind of person. I don’t know about you, but I can only think of one person who fits that description.”

     “Mione, even in the Ministry’s official statement the death was ruled ‘the suicide of a truly disturbed and deranged young girl’. They aren’t even calling it a murder. All the witnesses watched her do it to herself and there was no trace of Imperius left on the body. I can’t think of anything else that could control a person like that.” Hermione seethed a Ron’s words. How could they be so blind? She had seen the look in that girl’s eyes, there was no way she was in control of her own body.

     “They are just covering up the true! You both know exactly how much Fudge wants to deny Voldemort’s return. It terrifies him and he knows the moment he admits it is true that his control is gone. People are going to panic and he doesn’t know how to handle it!” Her voice was growing louder by the second. Harry tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder only to immediately have it shrugged off like he burned her.

     “Whoa, Hermione maybe it’s best if you calm down. I understand you’re shaken up by what happened today but you’re getting too worked up. Ron’s probably right after all. You just can’t see it right now because of what you saw. Besides,” Harry added, “if this was a true death eater attack the house would be swarming with owls and Order members alike. I think the best thing for you to do right now is get some rest”

 

     But she couldn’t rest.

 

     She spent the entire summer in her and Ginny’s room with the curtains drawn. No matter what she said Harry and Ron wouldn’t believe that something was coming faster than anyone would suspect it. It was the same routine everyday. She’d wake up at a quarter past nine to the sounds of Harry and Ron knocking on her door asking to escort her to breakfast. She’d decline without opening the door and wait until she heard their footsteps leave to begin researching once more. The hours ticked by with Hermione barely leaving the small oak desk, let alone the room. Ginny or Molly would sometimes bring her food, only to collect the barely touched plate a few hours later. Fred, George, and even Arthur tried to draw her from her obsessions a few times, but despite her enjoying the company she did not budge. Hermione kept reading until the sun set fully behind the light summer clouds and all Hermione had to read by was a single, short white candle, dim enough not to disturb Ginny in her sleep. Then before she knew it, Hermione was once more waking up from the desk to the soft rapping of knuckles on the door.

     It took Hermione 4 weeks develop a plan, and another two to prepare for it. By the end summer was over and she found herself in the crowded train back to Hogwarts, fully ready to execute what she had been planning to do all summer without the help of her friends.

     That’s how she found herself alone on the seventh floor, pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with her hair flowing wildly behind her. If she was caught now, it would ruin everything, but she pushed that thought from her mind. For once, Hermione pushed everything from her mind focusing solely on what she needed. She honed in her mind to everything she read this summer, everything she ever heard said or done, and most importantly on every speck of magical energy radiating from the dedicated book in her hands.

     Just when she thought it wasn’t going to work, a wooden door swirled to life before her. It began first as the size candle stick until it loomed over Hermione like a giant mahogany tomb. And perhaps that is what the Room of Requirement would be to her in the end. If of course, everything had worked.

     Hermione closed her eyes and let a deep breath escape her mouth as she laid a delicate hand on the room’s ordinate door handle. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. It was for the better of wizard kind. Hermione tried to tell herself that at least, but the truth was quickly becoming hard for her to separate from the lies.

     She carefully pressed her thumb down on the coppery handle and heard a metallic click as the door unlatched. She let out a sigh, secretly wishing that it she would have not been able to open it. She was tired after all and it couldn’t have been that bad if she had found it locked and had to return to her comfortable bed. Alas, that would have defeated the entire purpose of her research and Hermione was after all curious to see if what she did had worked after all. Leaning her weight into the door she pushed it open and slipped inside.

     The darkness was almost unparalleled. This was certainly _not_ what she pictured to be behind this door. For a second, Hermione thought that it didn’t work, that there was nothing in this blackened abyss but darkness. She sighed with relief until she heard the sound of a single drop fall somewhere in the distance and echo off the walls. She stopped breathing, her lungs burned as she waited for another sign to tell her that the sound she heard wasn’t her imagination.

_Thwop Thwop._

     Two more drops fell, filling her heart with fear.

_Thwop Thwop._

_Thwop Thwop._

_Thwop Thwop._

     They dropped two at a time, filling the cavern with the rhythmic beating of water hitting water. A metaphorical heartbeat signifying that the room was not only awake and ready for her, but alive on its own. It had worked.

     Shaking, Hermione drew her wand from her robe pocket and pointed it in front of her.

     “Lumos,” she whispered, barely loud enough for even her own ears to hear. The tip of her wand immediately flared, illuminating a grin nearly two feet in front of her.

     Hermione shrieked and fell back, hitting the stone floor with a loud thud. A wetness began to seep into her clothes from where she touched the ground as she desperately tried to snatch up where her wand and fallen in front of her. Just before her fingers could curl around the polished wood it was snatched up before her.

     He brought stick closer to his face, twisting and turning it in his hands, flexing it here and there until he took it in the palm of his right hand and sighed contently. He used the tip of her wand to brush back a mop of dark curly hair from his eyes causing the light to glint off his devilishly charismatic grin. He then took this moment to finally look over the poor girl at his feet.

     “Well well well,” he said with a hint of amusement laced in his silvery tone, “It’s finally nice to make your acquaintance, _Hermione_.”

     She knew from that point nothing would be the same again. Not now that she had brought him into this world.

 

_Tom._


	2. Mask of Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I can't believe I wrote this one all today. It was getting a little too long so I had to break this chapter up into a few different ones, but hopefully that will just help pace the story a little better. Enjoy!  
> ~Ember

     Something about what happened that summer had changed Hermione unexplainably. Harry could see that clear as day the moment she locked herself inside that room. He knew deep down that he shouldn’t have just brushed off that trip to the ministry like he did. Whether or not they agreed on the cause of the attack didn’t mean that he couldn’t be there for her when she needed it. However, like the idiot he was, he listened to Ron’s advice instead, who insisted that she was just in one of her moods that would end sooner or later. The problem was that she wasn’t getting any better. 

     After the grandiose welcoming feast, Hermione vanished from the Gryffindor table with the excuse that she needed to study. Normally, Harry wouldn’t think twice about her doing that. She was well known to repetitively slink off to the aired tombs that filled those wooden shelves. Yes, perhaps it was just Hermione finally getting back to her normal self now that they had returned to school. The studies surely would take her mind off of whatever troubles she was having. 

     Yet, Harry could feel a strange pull inside him as he watched his best friend’s small frame disappear from the great hall. It was a deep gut feeling that nestled into the very core of his being. The unease washed over him like waves over a drowning man until he no longer could deny it any longer. There was definitely something wrong with Hermione, and he was pretty sure that he had contributed to it getting this bad. 

     After dinner had ended Harry decided to swing by the library as well. They were due for a talk about everything and he needed the chance to apologize to Hermione for not being there for her this summer. Eventually he’d have to convince Ron to as well, but there was no way he was risking a fight with him while there were other things to worry about. 

     When Harry got to the library he found it devoid of everyone except Madam Pince, who glared down at him from her long crooked nose while insisting she would know if her favorite student had stopped by. All Harry could do was roll his eyes and hope to find her in the Gryffindor common room. Perhaps she had already gone back? Although it really was curious that Madam Pince didn’t notice her since Hermione was not the type of witch to avoid the old cranky witch. On more than one occasion he’d observed the hour long conversations that came from Pince’s soft spot for the girl. 

     As he arrived in the familiar red and gold room he caught the sight Lavender Brown bounding down the stairs of the girls dormitories. She smiled excitedly as she spotted the Boy Who Lived and made her way too him. 

     “Hello there, Harry!” Looking behind him her smile faltered slightly as she noticed now for the first time that he was alone. “Wow, it really is strange seeing you without your best friend. Where is Ron anyway?”

     Her over eager tone left Harry a bit uncomfortable as something in it made him feel slightly like he was being interrogated. Awkwardly, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his messy black mane. 

     “Well, I’d assume he’s still in the great hall where I left him. You know how he loves till the last second to stop pigging out on feast days.” Lavender giggled at Harry’s words while he tried to make his forced laughter seem genuine. A few seconds of silence passed over them.

     “Uh, hey before you go,” Harry started, desperately wishing he had ran into someone else, “Have you seen Hermione anywhere? She left dinner to go to the library but wasn’t there when I stopped by. I was thinking maybe she had gone up to the dorms instead. Since you guys share it I figured you might have run into her.” Lavender let out a like laugh which confused Harry. He didn’t think he said anything amusing after all. 

     “Am I missing something?” He asked her as she continued filling the air with light, frilly giggles. 

     “Oh Harry, don’t you remember she’s a prefect this year?” Of course he remembered that. The news was just about the only thing that had brought her from her room that summer. He failed to see why that mattered now though. He was pretty sure her official patrols didn’t start until a week into classes so that everyone had time to adjust back into the swing of things.

     “What does that have to do with anything?” Lavender made a clicking sound against her teeth and shook her head.

     “You mean you don’t remember?” The bubbly blonde asked teasingly. Harry could feel his frustrations rise. Why was it so damn hard to get a simple answer? 

     “I’m really not seeing how that has anything to do with if you’ve seen Hermione or not. I must be missing something.” 

     “Silly you! I can’t believe you didn’t remember that the prefects get their own private dorm.” Harry shook his head in confusion.

     “Wait, what?”

     “I know! Isn’t it scandalous? I was so jealous when I found out Hermione was chosen for the roll. I mean, what is  _ she _ going to do with all that extra space? Probably fill it will boring old books.” She sighed in disappointment. “She would be  _ so _ pretty if she just put a little zest into her appearance, the poor thing.” 

     Harry tried to ignore the blatant insult about his best friend and focus on the information the gossip loving girl had just given him.

     “Hold on, since when do prefects get private dorms? This is the first time I’ve ever heard about this.” As far as Harry knew the only perks of being a prefect were the extra authority and the nicer bathroom. Although he didn’t know how much he really counted the bathroom since he’d been sneaking into it for years and he sure as hell wasn’t a prefect. 

     “Oh, that? Harry, that’s old news. It’s been like that since we were in our fourth year. Apparently-” she began as Harry braced himself for another tangent. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lavender or anything. She was a very sweet girl and everything, but Harry had a hard time relating to all the shallow chatter. 

     “Apparently after the Tournament they had a lot of spare rooms cleared out for all the extra people who wanted to stay in the castle. I’m sure you remember all that extra traffic in the common room.” 

     “I...guess so?” In all honesty, he really didn’t remember what she was talking about. Harry didn’t really spend a lot of time in the common room during normal hours that year. When he did it wasn’t like he was paying attention to anything other than trying to figure out how not to end up as a snack for a hungry Hungarian Horntail. 

     “Well it was like that for the rest of the houses too, or at least that’s what Pavarti heard from Daphne Greengrass. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore must have figured that there was no use wasting the extra space and decided to give it to the prefects. I hear there’s two in every house.” 

     Harry couldn’t help but look around the cozy common room in confusion. He certainly didn’t see any new doors that could lead to these rumored dorms. That doesn’t exactly seem like something that he would just not notice appear one day. 

     “Lavender, no offense but have you actually seen these dorms? There isn’t exactly any extra entrances that I can see.” 

     “Of course you can’t see it! It’s not down here.You have to take the stairs up past the girls dormitories. I may not have ever been in them but I’ve seen where the door is and I know for a fact Hermione’s trunk isn’t where it usually is.” Great, all this chat for nothing it seemed. 

     “Well, uh, thanks help I guess. I’ll just have to wait until she comes out for breakfast tomorrow.” Harry turned towards the stairs before Lavender’s bubblegum voice rang out once more. 

     “Oh, she isn’t in her rooms. Since I have to maintain my delicate figure,” she said as she smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her tartan skirt, “I came back here long before Hermione left I’m sure. Before I went upstairs to grab my jumper a few minutes ago I was down here the whole time. There’s no way I would have missed her. “ 

     He frowned not knowing whether Lavender was really the greatest watch dog in the world, but he decided not to press it. 

     “Okay then, maybe I’ll just stay out here and wait for her to come back.” Lavender smiled again and nodded her head. 

     “That’s a great idea, Harry. I’m sure she’s just off begging some poor teacher for extra homework.” She turned to leave before remembering something and whipping back quickly, causing Harry to nearly be decapitated by her golden locks.

     “If you happen to see her can you send her my way?” That was an odd request coming from Lavender, especially since the two were never particularly close.

     “Um, I guess so, but why do you want to see her?” Harry instantly knew that was a mistake to ask when Lavender’s eyes lit up at once more having him as an audience for her stories.

     “I’m just  _ so _ tired of looking at that tangled mop of hair she parades around. Like I said before, Hermione would be so pretty if she just put in a little work. Especially now that she’s lost all that weird pudgy fat this past summer. That reminds me I really need to ask her what her secret is.” The Boy Who lived frantically looked around the room, trying to find any excuse to leave.

     “As I was saying, that hair is a crime against society. So this summer when I took a trip to muggle Paris I just  _ had _ to bring back some of this cute styling serum for her. It’s going to make those curls so much better! Anyway, since you’ve abandoned Ron I should go see how he’s doing…” She trailed off, walking out the door without so much as a farewell.   

     By the look of the dreamy expression on her face, Harry knew that he probably should feel bad that Ron was about to endure the same fate he had in the last ten minutes. However, if that’s what it took for Harry to be freed then he didn’t care. The lack of Lavender allowed him to enjoy the peaceful crackling of the fire that filled the air with the smells of comfort. He sat down in one of the red upholstered sofas and dug out a Quidditch book from his bag, preparing to wait for Hermione for as long as it took. 

 

     She never came. 

 

     It wasn’t till that morning when Ron had roused Harry from his not-so-comfortable position on the couch, and drug him down to breakfast did he see her again. At first, he didn’t notice her amongst the chaos of the first morning back. Students clamored to fill their plates on the tables stacked high with breakfast foods. Owls soared overhead, delivering letters of congratulations and packages of forgotten letters. Instead of a normal drop off, one brown speckled bird miscalculated its dive and ended up head first in a bowl of Twisty Flakes, sending milk and cereal across the Hufflepuff table. 

     It wasn’t until Harry drew farther into the hall that he noticed Hermione at the Gryffindor table. She sat alone, a bowl of untouched oatmeal sitting next to the head she had laid down on the table. As they approached, he realized Lavender had been right the night before when she mentioned Hermione had lost a lot of weight over the summer. It’s not like his friend had ever been particularly chunky before, but he now noticed the way her robes hung off her body limply, pooling in a pile by her feet while her wrinkled clothes seemed to be pinned in odd areas to stay upright. 

     “Blimey she looks like a bleedin wreck. I wonder if she’s sick or something.” Ron commented when he finally caught sight of her.

     “Maybe just drop it Ron, you’re not going to make her feel any better,” Harry replied.

     “Oh come on Harry, look at her,” Ron tried to whisper, “I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen her look so...unkept?” He finished, uncertain if that was the right word to describe her. 

     “I’m sorry some of us have better things to do than keep appearances,” Hermione said, lifting her head to watch them as they approached. Ron gulped nervously and tried to return her red eyed glare with a sheepish smile. She rolled her eyes before rubbing them with the palms of her hands. 

     “Sorry Mione, I didn’t mean it like that. You just look tired is all.” 

     That was an understatement. She was exhausted from everything that happened the night before. Obviously, she couldn’t tell them that though. They would lose their minds if they found out what she did, so instead Hermione decided it would be better if she altered the truth a bit.

     “Yeah, I was up all night preparing for these next couple weeks. Did you know prefects get their own rooms? I’m sure that is going to come in handy quite a bit.” 

     “That sounds interesting,” Harry commented drily. 

     He knew for a fact she was lying to them about what she was doing last night. He had been up till 3 in the morning waiting for her to return, and he never woke up to the portrait of the fat lady being opened. It hurt him that she would lie to them like that after everything they went through together. 

     As the boys dug into their food Hermione moved her bowl of oatmeal closer to her again. She added a handful of blueberries from a nearby bowl of fruit and zoned off while she stirred them in. Hermione sat there, lost in her thoughts until a pair of cold grey eyes entered her vision from across the great hall. They stared at her with such an intensity that she snapped out of her introspection to focus once more on her surrounding world.

     Draco sat on the other side of the great hall where he could watch her from the Slytherin table. It was the first time he’d seen her since the ministry and he thought it was safe to say that they both looked a little worse for wear. He was a few pounds lighter, although not by much, and his platinum hair fell limply in his face instead of being in its normal slicked back position. That paled in comparison to the girl he hardly recognized sitting across the hall.

     His former target stared back at him looking like the ghost of her former self. Normally after a long healthy summer she’d return to school sporting and even olive complexion that was earned from many warm days in the sun. Instead, her skin looked possibly more translucent than the ginger’s who sat adjacent to her. Cradling her hollow brown eyes were swollen bags from countless nights of no sleep. He noticed too just how sickly thin she appeared to be under her robes. He just didn’t understand how Saint Potter and Weasel-Bee could watch her deteriorate like this without saying a word. 

     They held each other’s gaze for a few moments, absorbing the appearance of the other. Hermione lifted a spoonful of her breakfast to her mouth to blow on the still steaming oats. Lips puckered, she arched her brow in a silent question and watched him frown at her and look down. Putting the spoon down without eating its contents she noticed him scribbling down something on the parchment in front of him. It took about a minute until his eyes darted back up to meet hers before redirecting briefly to the large double doors of the great hall. 

     Before she had a chance to respond she felt a hand grab her shoulder. Hermione jumped so hard she nearly fell off the bench and covered her mouth to muffle the small shriek that tried to escape. Her head whipped to the side to find Harry wearing a worried expression on his face. 

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, Hermione. Just wanted to make sure you were okay and everything. You seemed pretty lost in thought…” Harry trailed off, using her temporary distraction to sneak a quick peak at what she was focusing on for so long. 

     Draco was still sitting in the exact spot he was before, only now it seemed as if Pansy Parkinson had engaged him in what looked like a thrilling conversation. Ron was still rather oblivious to anything that wasn’t on his plate as Harry concentrated his attention back on his female companion. 

     “It’s fine Harry. I’m alright, just a little tired is all. Plus I’m thinking about how I’m going to be able to delegate time to all my prefect duties as well as preparation time for the upcoming N.E.W.T.’s. You know how much I’ve been stressing over them.” 

     “Yes, Hermione I know you have, but are you sure this isn’t really about Malfoy over there?” Harry asked innocently. Hermione exhaled in amusement. 

     “Are we really having this conversation again, Harry?” She asked lightly as he shifted in his seat.

     “You can’t expect me to believe he doesn’t have something to do with the way you’ve been acting this summer.” After discovering what they were talking about, Ron decided to draw himself away from his food just long enough to interject.

     “Harry has a point Mione. You can’t blame us for worrying. Especially when dad finally found you he said you and Malfoy were-”

     “That isn’t true,  _ Ronald _ ,” she cut him off before he had a chance to feed the rumor mills. “Your father must have been mistaken, which I’m sure would be easy when there was a dead body three feet from his boots.” Hermione paused briefly to give them both a stern look, which in her state probably came off as fairly pathetic, before she began again. “Now I’ve told you both this before. All Arthur saw was me standing next to Malfoy. That really shouldn’t be so hard to believe considering his father sent me off to be watched by him like I was some common criminal.” 

     “Still, if he hurt you or so much as looked at you the wrong way I’ll kill him.” Harry promised in a nonchalant tone. 

     “Agreed,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of sweet roll. Hermione stood from her spot and looked down upon her two best friends. They were her family, regardless of blood. How on Earth was she going to do this alone?

     “The worst thing he did was make me a little uncomfortable, which is hardly a crime punishable by death. He may be a git, but that seems a little extreme.” Both boys just grumbled and shrugged their shoulders in response. “Now, if you'll excuse me I need to grab my books for class from my room. I’ll see you both in Herbology.” 

     Hermione could feel Harry’s gaze follow her until she fell safely behind the doors. A relieved sigh pushed past her lips as soon as she was alone. Her shoulders slumped forward. The mask she erected around her friends now shattered into long spindly shards, cutting into the soft flesh of her face. Walking towards her room, Hermione tried to think of anything but how they made the blood trickle down her cheeks.

     She knew Harry was suspicious of something going on with her. So far she’d been able to lie her way through his questions, but it was obvious that it wasn’t doing the trick. Plus, the guilt she felt about it was making it even harder for her to be convincing. 

     A large object suddenly slammed into Hermione, causing her to stumble back several steps before she caught herself on the nearby wall. A shrill laughter pierced the quiet corridor like the scraping of nails. Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy stood in a semi circle around where Hermione had stumbled. Draco stood in the center with either lacky to the side of him. Pansy was doubled over to his right, clutching her stomach at the sight of the pathetic creature before them. 

     “Nice one Draco,” she managed between teary gasps, managing to control her laughter briefly. “But nothing compares to this bloody fucking ensemble she’s wearing! God, how pitiful can you get, Granger? Even blood-traitor Weasels can afford better fitting clothes than you! I have no idea which one of daddy’s little friends touched you to make you this god damned  _ broken _ , but next time you see them, give them my thanks. I’m absolutely _ living _ for this!” Pansy exclaimed before she burst out laughing once more. Shaking her head, the Slytherin prefect slipped a manicured hand into the dark leather purse to her side and extracted a bottle of water. 

     Hermione felt one last piece of her mask splinter at her temple then break off into four deadly shards. They prodded at the skin just beside her ear and whispered voicelessly, pleading to let them join the rest of their siblings. Hermione tried to wipe them away with her hand, but instead ended up grounding the fragments deep into her skin. They all moved fluently under her palm, scraping away at her until Hermione felt something dark begin to crawl out of her wounds. 

     Hermione did not acknowledge the two boys watching them. Her eyes locked on Pansy, who was too focused guzzling down water to notice how the witch she tormented let a twisted grin poison her lips. She was too tired, too worn down to store away Pansy’s insults this time. Why did she have to be the bigger person? The Slytherin had been taking digs at her for years now, so why couldn’t she finally take one back? It was only Pansy after all…

     “You’re just jealous that I don’t have to get breast implants not to look like a twelve year old boy for the rest of my life. Tell me Parkinson, who wanted them more: you or your father?” 

     Water sprayed through the air at light speed. A horrible coughing and sputtering ripped though Pansy’s chest as she struggled to on the water she nearly choke on. 

_      “Excuse _ me?” she coughed in disbelief. 

     This could not possibly be the same passive little Gryffindor Princess she remembered. The one who nearly teared up when Crabbe poured slug jelly on her shoes last year. The one that nearly always backed down from a fight in order to take “the high road”. Pansy didn’t even think that Hermione really _ looked _ like the same person either. What happened to her?

     “I think you heard me quite clear, Ms. Parkinson. So tell me,” Hermione took advanced forward slightly while straightening out the ill-fitting robes on her body. “Tell me, Pansy, does you daddy pimp you out to his colleagues the same way you pimp yourself out to anyone who has half a ball and an inch to spare?” 

     Goyle quickly slammed a meaty hand over his mouth in a sorry attempt to stifle the pig like snicker that burst from there at Hermione’s harsh words. Pansy only glared at him with contempt, quickly snapping her red face back in Hermione’s direction. 

     “You must have a lot of that Gryffindor courage to say that to me, Mudblood. Learn your place or I’ll make your life a living hell.” She spat. Hermione raised her hands in mock surrender.

     “Oh my deepest apologies. I was merely using you to practice. Didn’t think you’d mind since that’s what everyone else does anyway.” 

     Before Draco could blink Pansy had drawn her wand and pointed it directly at Hermione’s throat. Not once did fear enter her eyes as the dark wood pressed harshly into her neck. Her manic grin egging on the rage of the witch across from her. He had certainly never seen this from her before.

     “You little bitch! I could do anything I want to you right now and no one would ever know.” She pressed the tip a little further for emphasis.

     “And what exactly are you going to do Parkinson?” Hermione taunted lightly. “Prove that you have another talent besides spreading your legs so people will tolerate you?” 

     Pansy was stunned for the briefest moment, which Draco was positive he had never seen before. Pansy was never one to falter in an argument, let alone in a fight against someone from their enemy house. He had no idea where this change in Hermione was coming from. It was easy for him to tell just how deep her harsh words had cut the Slytherin witch, but if he was being honest she hadn’t said anything that Draco hadn’t thought of himself at some point. 

     “I’m going to fucking kill you, Mudblood!” She shrieked, but before a single curse escaped past her pink lip gloss, the voice of another, much older witch stopped her in her tracks.

     “ _PANSY PARKINSON!_ _DROP YOUR WAND THIS INSTANT!_ ” 

     The four students all whipped their heads around to see the green clad deputy headmistress rushing towards them. A single glimpse of her favorite professor and Hermione’s blood ran cold. McGonagall could absolutely not see her like this. Especially on her first day as a prefect. She had to do something quickly before it costed her detention time that could be spent further progressing her work from last night. 

     Thankfully for Hermione, Pansy had kept her wand where it had been. Hermione swiftly pressed her palms flat against the stone wall behind her closing her eyes and turning away from the approaching professor. Taking a deep breath, she let the memories of what happened this summer seep into her mind willingly for the first time. Behind her closed lids she saw it all once more. The silver athame dancing through the green light of the braziers, hypnotizing the gathering crowd. Her hollow eyes as she ripped through her arms without hesitation. How her blood was still warm when it finally made it to Hermione’s feet, allowing her to see her own reflection staring back at her from the crimson pool. She let these memorize wash over her until her whole body quaked and she felt the salty flow of tears hit the bottom of her chin.   

     “Professor,” she called out weakly just as the elder witch approached them. To McGonagall there was no mystery to the scene before her. The visibly shaken Gryffindor had been accosted by the three surrounding Slytherins. A flick of her wand sent the stick flying from Pansy’s hand which allowed Hermione to sink to the floor without the wood digging into her neck. 

     “Out of my way!” McGonagall commanded so she could rush to the crying girl on the floor. The three of them each bolted a few steps back as they all tried to wrap their heads around what was going on. 

     “Ms. Granger- Ms. Granger are you alright? Tell me what happened? Did they hurt you?” The questions rapidly left her mouth. At the same time she tried her best to assess any possible damage to her favorite student. Hermione shook her head before turning her watery red eyes towards the professor. 

     “I-I-I’m o-okay p-professor,” she stuttered between sobs. “I-I-I just don’t understand why sh-she hates me.” 

     “Ms. Parkinson?” McGonagall asked, knowing full well the answer. Hermione nodded once more and sniffed.

     “Sh-sh-she just attacked me! All I-I-I wanted was to ask her w-when we were p-p-paired for patrols. She’s n-n-never going to accept m-me because all I-I am is a m-m-...a m-m-”

     “Hermione you don’t-”

     “A Mudblood.” There was silence for a beat as they all digested that word, it meaning something different for each of them. 

     For Goyle, all its meaning was nothing more than confusion. He was never the most intelligent sort and couldn’t comprehend why this girl was blubbering about one thing happening when in reality something else happened entirely. 

     For McGonagall, it meant justice. She hadn’t dragged her weary bones through the first wizarding war to just stand ideally by as those same twisted morals harmed yet another bright and wonderful witch. 

     For Hermione, it was an out. The only way the word that haunted her entire childhood at Hogwarts would be anything but painful.  

     For Draco, it was fascination. He watched for years as that word broke Hermione down only now to see her use it as armor. Yes, perhaps it was at the disadvantage of him, but fuck if it wasn’t a clever twist.

     And finally for Pansy, it meant her conviction. She. Was. Fucked. 

     “What about the other two? Surely they were not just gawking on the sidelines as Ms. Parkinson assaulted you.” Hermione bit her bottom lip. She really didn’t want to cause more drama then she had.

     “T-t-they just arrived as she d-drew her wand. I-I think it w-was a distraction l-long enough for you to get here.” 

     The elder witch pressed her lip in a tight line. It seemed highly usually the two boys would come to the aid of Hermione instead of their housemate. However, as McGonagall looked at the whimpering girl she really couldn’t see why Hermione would lie to protect them. 

     “Mr Malfoy,” she called, not moving from her crouched position. He scurried over to where they were all the while mentally preparing for a crucifixion. 

     “Yes, Professor?” 

     “Please escort Ms. Granger to her rooms. It is clear she is unwell from this ordeal and needs to rest. Do not let her out of your sight until she is behind the door of her own room.” 

     “Of course, Professor.” 

     “Wait- wait!” Hermione squealed as Draco began to lift her from the ground. “I can’t rest right now! Classes start in 20 minutes and I can’t be late on the first day!” 

     “You will not be late to any of your classes as you will not be attending them. You’re excused for the day. I have no doubt you’ve already read the material for today anyway.” McGonagall said in a tone that left no room for argument. She stood from her spot on the floor and brushed off her robes as Draco helped Hermione fully to her feet. 

     “Mr. Goyle, get to class.” The words barely left her lips and he was down the hall, distancing himself as much as he could from the awkward encounter. 

     “As for you Ms. Parkinson, you are to follow me to the Headmaster’s office this instant. You are a prefect and yet I find you drawing your wand on another student in the name of ridiculous prejudice! We will discuss your transgressions with Headmaster Dumbledore as well as Professor Snape until we devise a suitable punishment. Now pick up your wand and let’s go.” 

     Pansy didn’t even try to argue with her. She knew nothing she could say at this point would get her out of this. With one last hateful look at the Gryffindor she dropped her eyes to floor and retrieved her wand before making her way dejectedly behind the Professor. All that was left of the tryst that occured just moments before was Draco and Hermione, yet again alone at the scene of a crime. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I'm sorry! I was going to put in what happened at the end of the last chapter but I really think it's important I establish how the relationships are between the characters as well as show the cracks in Hermione's stability. I will be going into what is going on with her in Draco in the next chapter in a little bout of ~reminiscing~ and heavily dominated Draco and Hermione scenes. Hopefully I'll be able to relieve last chapters cliff hanger within chap 3 but theres a strong possibility with my word counts ill have to push it back to chap 4. Please R&R!  
> ~Ember


	3. Letters to the Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the letters. Just wanted to build a background between Draco and Hermione.

     The entire walk to the Gryffindor tower was done in silence. They mostly walked side by side, with Hermione maybe a step or two in front of Draco in an attempt to avoid the scrutinizing glances he was sending her way. He was curious, after all, what had just happened with her back there. The normally composed Hermione Granger had disappeared entirely, leaving some sort of shell in its place. Perhaps he underestimated this summer’s effects on her after all. 

     They paused briefly in front of the picture of the fat lady so that Hermione could say the password to enter. It was a shame Draco wasn’t the same mischievous little prat he had been a few years prior, or he could have absolutely wreaked havoc on his enemy house. Instead, he barely listened as the ghostly whisper slid past her lips, too deep in thought to concentrate on such things. The painting seemed to scowl down at Draco before swinging open and allowing the two to pass through to the Gryffindor common room. 

     He had never actually been inside the red and gold common room before, although, admittedly he  _ had _ terrorized the painting endlessly his first year. It was a little off putting to say the least. Draco wasn’t used to the kind of endless warmth that seemed to saturate this room. It was not the kind that radiated off of the burning embers in the fireplace, nor the kind produced from the tip of a wand. Somehow he knew it was a warmth that came from the hearts of the very people who spent their days here. 

_      How disgusting. _

     As Hermione and Draco made their way over to the stairwell, several lingering students watched them with wide eyes. They ducked behind books and unfinished essays, whispering to their friends about the sight before them. The Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince, walking together where they most  _ certainly _ did not belong. A scandal in its own right. 

     Draco pointedly ignored them all, grinding his teeth together as he followed the witch in front of him up the stairs. Damn McGonagall for making him do this. Damn Hermione as well for not just throwing him under the bus with Pansy. He’d almost prefer a night in detention with her over having to hear all the idiotic rumors that would surely spread after this. Almost. 

     Hermione stopped at the second door up passed the girl’s dormitories. It appeared to be a dark cherrywood, just a little fancier than the door below, with two bright golden sconces on either side. She pulled out an ornate key from her robe pocket and twisted it in its corresponding lock until the door popped open. Turning in the doorway to look at Draco she cleared her throat. 

     “Ehem. Well. It was a pleasure walking with you.” Nodding her head Hermione tried to retreat into her room before Draco yanked her back by the hand. 

     “Hermione wait-” before he had time to continue a bubbly shrill cut him off. 

     “Is that you up there Hermione? I’ve been looking all over for y-” Lavender Brown emerged from the stairs just as Draco and Hermione pulled their hands apart. 

     “Oh, my,” she breathed. Her eyes went wide as she examined the two prefects, trying desperately to hide her satisfied smirk forming on her delicate features. If there weren’t going to be rumors before, there was now that Lavender had been involved. This was going to be the gossip of the year.

     “Am I… interrupting something?” She asked them sweetly. Draco saw through her act instantly. 

     “Why don’t you mind your own business, Brown.” He spat, glaring holes into her head. Merlin, this is just what he needed. Lavender fucking Brown to make matters even worse. If word got back to his father that he’d been spotted consorting with a  _ Mudblood _ he’d be whipped bloody. Especially after everything that’s happened. 

     “Malfoy!” Hermione hissed at Draco before turning her eyes to Lavender. “Uh, no. He was  _ just  _ leaving.” 

     “Oh good, because I’ve been wanting to see you! I was thinking maybe after classes we could take dinner up here and catch up.” Lavender eyed Draco knowingly. “I’m _ sure _ we have a lot to talk about.” 

     “Um well maybe but I-” Hermione started.

     “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now, Brown?” Draco interrupted.

     “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” Lavender countered making Draco’s hand itch to grab his wand. 

     “Yes, he is.” Hermione eyed him pointedly and nodded her head towards the bottom of the stairs. 

     “Of course.” He clenched his fists tightly, causing the knuckles on his hands to turn white. With a seething look at the girls he bounded down the steps. 

_      “Ten points from Gryffindor, for skipping class.”  _ He yelled up at the insufferable witch. 

     Lavender just rolled her eyes at the faux punishment before turning her attention once more to the prefect before her. 

     “Anyway- back to what’s important,” she said cheerily. “What do you say Hermione, dinner in your room? Say 8 o’clock?” 

     “That sounds lovely, Lavender, but-”

     “Okay great! I’ll see you then, bye!” Lavender took off leaving Hermione without a choice in the matter. 

     Stepping into her room she closed the door behind her. The cool wood leached the warmth from her back as Hermione leaned against it, sliding down until she hit the floor below. She brought the hand Draco had grabbed to her lap, and finally unclenched it to reveal a bit of parchment wrapped securely around a vial of purple liquid. Hermione sighed as she carefully undid the scroll, looking at the elegant writing before her. 

 

_ H, _

_      You lied about how you were doing. I should have known you’d be too stubborn to tell me the truth about how you were actually fairing. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out once classes began, or did you just think you would have it covered up by now? It’s obvious even from here you’re up to something. I can see the guilt all over your face when you talk to Potty and Weasel. We are talking about this.Tonight. Astronomy tower 10 sharp. You better not think of ditching me. _

_ -D _

_ P.s. Don’t think I didn’t see that you didn’t eat. Again. Drink up.  _

     She turned the vial in her hand to read the label. Draught of Peace was scrawled haphazardly on the side of the bottle in the same delicate script that was on the parchment. A thoughtful gesture on his part, although she suspected he probably stole it from Snape’s stash rather than brew it himself. Either way Hermione didn’t really have any intention of taking it. There was nothing wrong after all. Just a slight hiccup of anxiety that caused her to act like that. Yes, everything was going exceptionally well.

     Taking a deep breath against the door, her composure snapped back into place like a broken bone. She straightened herself up from the floor, and brushed off the invisible dust on her robes. This was technically the first time Hermione had been in her new rooms, apart from the brief tour of where they were upon arrival, but that really didn’t give her any time to explore the new area. 

     It wasn’t exactly what she expected when she first got news. Hermione imagined that it would be much like her dorm room she shared with the girls in years previous. She thought it would have the same tall four poster twin bed with maybe a warm fireplace and desk. Friendly reds and golds to line the walls and make her feel fully comfortable and at home. Mostly, what she was hoping for was a few bookshelves to properly store all of her precious tombs. That really didn’t seem like a lot to assume.

     However, Hermione found herself slightly disappointed with how different it actually was from how she pictured it. The room was not horrible by any means. In fact, anyone else probably would have fawned over the extra space provided. She knew many of the girls in her year would gladly have taken it over. It’s just, Hermione wasn’t exactly the average girl. 

     The only door into her dorm lead to a small entryway about five feet long on either side. On the right, there were a few carefully polished brass hooks meant for robes, hats, or scarves that Hermione would probably never place there. A white door occupied the left wall, giving way to the pristine porcelain tiles of the half bath. Beyond the hall was the room itself. The powder blue walls gracefully stretched out in a wide circle to match the width of the tower. It was much bigger than her room with Ginny this summer, as well as the room she had with her parents. The paint shimmered slightly in the light, and as Hermione got closer she realized that it was from small dainty fleur de lis designs hand painted across the room. 

     The bed was a size up from the one she normally would have at Hogwarts, accept it lacked the traditional posts she was used to. Instead, the massive golden head and footboard were gleaming and plush. Silken cream sheets just a touch different from the trimming of the walls were tucked perfectly under the sides of the full mattress. A small wooden nightstand sat to the side, matching perfectly with the lavish sofa at the end of the bed. There was no desk, just a clawfoot coffee table in between the petite, decorative fireplace and couch. 

     One floor to ceiling window cast blinding light through the room, which was hardly necessary with the countless enchanted oil lamps. A large mirror sat atop the bureau adjacent to the window that looked like it had been once used mainly for applying makeup. The door across lead to what was widely considered, Hermione assumed, to be the crowning jewel of the room; a full walk in closet. One side had a long, spindly pole stretched across the top that help dozens of empty hangers. The other was simply different sized shelves and cubbies. 

     This was definitely much more than Hermione expected for just being a prefect. It was a little hard to believe they would just give such a room that breathed elegant aristocracy to Hermione just because she had a badge. It was, after all, almost ridiculously lavish to the point where she felt a little nervous to touch anything. The colors alone made Hermione conclude that such a place could only have been designed for and by a student of Beauxbaton’s. While she appreciated the french beauty surrounding her, it still didn’t feel quite like home. 

     Timidly, she wandered over to the left side of her bed where her trunk had been placed. It seemed so small and dirty next to all the polished metallics that she couldn’t help but cast a quick scourgify before opening it to unpack her things. Unbeknownst to anyone, Hermione had figured out how to amplify the extension charm in her luggage in order to take more things with her this year. Normally tampering with or using an undetectable extension charm for personal use was highly illegal, but Hermione seriously doubted she’d get in too much trouble if anyone found out. After all, she was just using it to carry extra books. 

     Without any proper bookshelves Hermione was a little perplexed on exactly where she was going to put all the extra books she had. She glanced around her with a large stack wedged between her arms before roaming into the closet. Yes, those cubbies would have to do for the meantime. Deciding to unpack the muggle way it took around 8 trips from her trunk to run out of space for her books. About three stacks remained without a home, so she decided to sort through them all before deciding where to put them. 

     Without a hitch two of them were transported to table in front of the fire, but as Hermione went to set down the third her ankle hooked oddly on the side of the sofa. The volumes went flying out of her hands and into the two neat piles, scattering them all across the table and floor. Frustrated, she let out a slight huff at the mess before her. This certainly wasn’t at all how today was suppose to go. 

     The sofa was horribly uncomfortable to sit on, but she did it anyway to try to reorganize everything. One particularly large title was halfway wedged under the table which required Hermione to use both hands to extract. It was much lighter than any other book that size. It didn’t become clear why that was until she turned the book over to see the title.  _ The Selfishness of the Elite: Born or Made? _ A rare smile threatened to form as she gently opened the front cover. The inside of the book was completely hollow with all the words cut from the center of its pages. In their place were a multitude of unaddressed letters all sharing the same broken wax seal. 

     Hermione really wasn’t expecting it to happen when it did. Previous to the day at the ministry all Draco had been to her was a bigot. Someone that would remain barely tolerable a best. Given their history it wasn’t an unfair assumption for Hermione to make, even if it wasn’t a completely accurate one. So it was much to her surprise when the new year approached and she discovered they had developed a sort of understanding for each other. 

     It took her awhile to pinpoint where it all began once the realization of their impending friendship dawned on her. (Although she wasn’t quite sure if that was the correct term to use.) Hermione’s overanalyzing brain recounted their every interaction before landing on the two obvious choices that allowed her to decipher the true answer. Despite the little heart-to-heart and torture scene they experienced together, she concluded that the snowball of understanding didn’t truly start rolling until five days after. 

 

     The week following the murder had been the most brutal for Hermione. Ginny had yet to return from her summer Quidditch camp which left Hermione with a room to herself. After explaining what happened to her two best friends she locked herself in that room completely. Everyone at the Burrow seemed to understand her wishes to be left alone. Only Molly Weasley disturbed her at all in that first week. Even so that was just to bring her massive bowls of soup once a day only to retrieve them untouched later when Hermione couldn’t manage to keep them down. 

     Eat and sleep became an impossible task. No matter how much her stomach begged for food, it would continue to reject anything she gave it. After the third day she stopped trying to choke it down, to tired from the hours spent crying and heaving over the toilet. The exhaustion she felt was much worse than the hunger though. Every time Hermione would close her eyes the images of torn flesh would bring her back to the ministry until her own screams tore her from the visions. Her terrors became so bad that she was fairly sure Harry and Ron had placed a muffling charm on the bedroom door. 

     It continued this way until the fifth night alone. It was the first night she was finally experiencing something close to sleep after passing out over the blankets of her bed. The moment her head hit the pillow she was again back at the ministry, only this time things were a little different. This time the girl was the one standing next to Draco on the front lines while Hermione tried desperately to control her own body. It was no use though. The hilt of athame dug into her palm only confirming that she was mimicking the same ritualistic motions she had seen. A millisecond before the first vein was cut, a sharp knock shook the window above Hermione’s head. 

     She jolted awake with a gasping breath. Harsh coughs wracked her sweat covered body for a minute, giving her time to fully wake up. The first thing she noticed was the horrible layer of sweat that drenched the tank top she had been wearing. Lifting her hands to inspect her maroon garment Hermione also discovered two small tears in the sheets where her nails had pierced the fabric. A pang of guilt formed from ruining them, even though she was sure Molly wouldn’t stress over them. Still, she vowed to replace them when she had the chance.

     Another round of taps reverberated through the glass pane, shaking her out of her mulled thoughts. Hermione twisted her torso to inspect what was going on. Outside, a pair of vibrant red eyes hovered in a mass of fluttering black. She let out a short shriek, and jumped back. Instead of falling back on the bed, she landed on the edge of the mattress and tumbled unceremoniously to the floor with the blankets slipping down over her. There was a struggle to escape the cottony prison since it seemed to weigh a ton in the humid summer air. There was another, much more loud and persistent series of tapping.

     Finally, Hermione broke free by rolling out of the blanket to another part of the floor. The past days had really taken their toll of the Gryffindor Princess, as she felt completely drained from the ridiculous skirmish. Louder now, the wrapping began again, only this time it was obvious that it  _ demanded _ attention. She heaved as she got up from the floor to further inspect what was outside. Feeling rather foolish, Hermione realized that the red eyes belonged to a black owl that hovered impatiently outside the window. 

     The window popped open with a soft click when she scrambled to undo the latch. Hermione couldn’t believe she made the poor creature wait so long. It swooped in above her head and landed on the edge of the desk at the same time that the window was relatched. The bird shook out its ebony feathers then pecked away at something under its wing. She had never seen an all black owl before, though perhaps that was because she hadn’t grew up with owls delivering her mail. If it wasn’t for its wide round eyes, Hermione could almost have mistaken the bird for a large raven. 

     “Now who are you?” Hermione tried to say softly, but her voice came out in more of a gargled whisper from all the screaming. 

     The elongated package from its foot was easy to untie. Thankfully the owl did not bite her as many have, and only let out a small chirp instead. The delivery was a thin rectangular box that stretched the length of her forearm. It was wrapped in silvery grey paper with an envelope attached in the middle. Ignoring the letter, Hermione ripped open the paper to the bare box beneath before halting. What if this wasn’t a package for her? It was unmarked after all, so there was no way to tell who it was really for. She’d feel terribly guilty if this turned out to be a gift for Ginny that she had just ruined. Although, when did Ginny ever get mail directly to her window? After summers of sharing a room Hermione would definitely know of any secret mail. Even if it turned out to be Ginny’s, Hermione knew the ginger witch would understand the mix up. After properly reasoning with herself she decided to open the box.

     “My wand!” Hermione gasped, gripping the familiar wood tightly in her hand. “How on Earth did I not know it was gone? But where did it come-”

     The envelope laid abandoned on the floor with the rest of the wrappings. It landed face down displaying a dragon stamped with silver wax. She narrowed her eyes at the little creature knowingly. It was easier than she thought it would be to remove the seal by popping it open with the nail on her thumb. Hermione took the parchment out, ignoring the owl’s whine as it had to dodge the discarded envelope. The tiny words were barely legible without a light, but Hermione was just barely able to make them out.

_ July 16th _

_      You dropped this. _

_ -D _

_ P.s. You’re welcome. _

     Leave it to Draco Malfoy to sound like an arrogant prat with just five words. Hermione wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be happy that he returned her wand or angry that he had waited this long to return it. Both would have to be acceptable. The single chair at the desk made a horrid scratching noise across the floor as Hermione tried to scoot into the desk. She pushed aside a plate of old bread and cheese to clear the area in front of her before taking out a quill and some parchment. The black owl greedily nibbled at the hard bread as she worked. 

_ July 16th _

_      While I appreciate my wand being returned to me in the manor I last saw it in, I am appalled you would wait so long to return it. What if I had been looking for it? Withholding it from me was both extremely childish as well as dangerous since I could have been in a situation where its use was detrimental. Merlin. First you’re using underage magic (in the ministry of all places!) and next you’re stealing wands. What’s next? _

_ -H _

_ P.s. Don’t bother feeding your demon owl, it ate half a loaf of bread already. _

     Attaching the scroll to the dark bird, Hermione sent it off into the night to return to its irritating master. She left the window open and returned to the bed with the cool summer breeze soothing her hot skin. Time ticked slowly away while Hermione’s mind kept busy planning a thousand conversations she would never have. The words blurred her vision until about an hour later when the same bird as before dropped suddenly onto her chest. 

     “Did you get lost from here?” She asked as she sat up, letting the owl flutter to its previous post. 

     Wiltshire was over two hours from where she was. There was no way an owl could fly the distance of 200 miles in an hour. Logically, Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around it. Yet, the same dragon stamp glared at her from before, only this time in green. Raising a brow Hermione made quick work of opening the new letter. One hand held the creamy paper up to her eyes while the other gave a light scratch to the hardworking bird.

_ July 16th  _

_ H, _

_      First of all her name is Ophiuchi and she isn’t a “demon owl” as you put it. She’s a rare Night Wing owl capable of the fastest travel speeds out of any magical bird species. It’s not any surprise you didn’t know what she was considering a single feather from her chest is worth about three times the amount of the shack your staying in is. _

_      Second, I believe I deserve a thank you instead of a lecture. It’s not like I had a fucking peachy time getting it back to you. If you didn’t know it was gone until I returned it, I really don’t see why you’re getting your panties in a twist about how long it was gone. You wouldn’t have been able to use it regardless since, as you so righteously pointed out, underage magic is strictly forbidden. Thankfully that rule only applies to one of us since I turned seventeen on the fifth of June. But by all means, have fun up there on your high horse. _

_ -D _

_ P.s. She can have what she wants, leave her be.  _

 

_ July 17th _

_ D, _

_      Did you REALLY name your owl after the constellation Ophiuchus? The snake killer? Did you REALLY name your owl, a natural predator of snakes, The Snake Killer? Well, at least you were paying attention in Astronomy class 5th year.  _

_      Sorry that all of us aren’t scandalously rich like a certain blonde prat. Also, it's not like I had an excuse to ever bother learning your birthday. But since this horse I’m on is so bloody high I’ll be able to drop a little late gift on weird head. It’s a copy of ‘The Selfishness of the Elite: Born or Made?’, the absolutely thrilling study that explores whether or not your arrogance was a learned or inherited trait. I’m sure you’ll especially love the chapter on pureblood inbreeding. If I’m not mistaken the Malfoy’s get their own little shout out! _

_ -H _

_ P.s. Don’t talk about my panties, you creep.  _

 

     These letters continued constantly over the summer nights with Ophiuchi going between them. 

 

July 20th

_ H,  _

_      Are you always such a prude, Granger? How is Weasel-Bee ever going to bone you if you can’t even handle the word panties? You know as well as I do shagging you is right up there at the top of his summer to-do list. Well, that along with polishing his wand to the garden gnomes, if you know what I mean. _

_      In all seriousness though, your last letter mentioned nightmares. Personally, I don’t really dream much, which I suppose only means I have to deal with that shit when I’m awake. Even if I did, my everyday life is enough of a nightmare that I doubt what happened would give me any substantial night terrors.  _

_      Considering you asked at all I’m just going to assume you’re having pretty bad ones. Your stubbornness really does reach astounding levels. Either way you’re not going to be able to get past what we saw if you haven’t been sleeping. I’ll send over a few vials of dreamless sleeping draught to shut off that massive brain of yours. In no time you’ll find yourself slipping into something a little more comfortable...like a light coma. Nothing to worry about though, you’ll only be out long enough to recover.  _

_ -D _

_ P.s. I’m sending back the book you gave me. Made a few adjustments and found that you were right all along! Without the words, it really is quite the charming tome.  _

 

_ July 25th _

_ D, _

_      Is your ass jealous of the shit that came out of your mouth? Honestly, I’ve counted and for the past 12 letters I’ve reiterated to you that I’m not “afraid” of my own bloody underwear. I just think it’s fucking creepy when you ask questions like “do you have a special pair you’re saving for when the Weasel asks that special question”. I honestly can’t tell at this point if you either have a secret panty fetish, or your need to make me uncomfortable is so strong that you don’t care if it looks like you have one. If I had known what a pervert the cruel and stoney Draco Malfoy was I would have never responded to your original letter.  _

_      For the last time yes, I have taken your potions. Yes, they helped with the nightmares. I’m even back up to eating meals again if that makes you feel any better. You can stop pestering me about it now. I’m fine. Besides don’t you have some sort of gala you need to prepare for? I thought I saw something in the Prophet along those lines. _

_ -H _

_ P.s. Jokes on you, the husk of the book you MURDERED is a great place for hidden storage. _

 

_ July 29th _

_ H, _

_      You know, Granger I would have never guessed you had such a filthy vocabulary. I consider myself to be thoroughly chastised after such a truly justified written lashing. I tried my best to imagine the righteous indignation that speech would have contained in person, but I fear that my imagination cannot stretch to such limits. I will admit I did go just a tad overboard, but you were still overreacting. You know I can’t resist teasing you when it bothers you so much. I’d like to see things from your point of view, Hermione, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass.  _

_      I’m going to be heading out to our chateau in France in the morning, so this is going to be my last letter for a week or two. This bloody gala always takes up far too much of my time, but it would be taken as an insult for the only Malfoy son not to make an extended appearance. Ophiuchi will be around your location while I’m gone in case you need to reach me. She’ll most likely come if you call her, and she’ll definitely come if there’s food involved.  _

_ -D _

_ P.s. Try to keep your mind off of the muggleborn girl. I still haven’t heard anything, but it sounds like something they’d do. _

 

_ August 9th _

_ D, _

_      Draco it’s all over the papers. Are you alright? I’m hoping it’s just some fake news story for some extra publicity, but I figured I’d check with you anyway. Sorry for the abrupt letter. _

_ -H _

_ P.s. It’s been oddly strange not writing you. Reply soon? _

 

_ August 9th _

_ H, _

_      I can’t write much now, but yes, for once Rita Skeeter has a semi accurate story. Auror’s swarmed the place. Gala had to be a set up to arrest my father somewhere they knew he wouldn’t resist. I’ll send more details later, but I’m being called in for questioning.  _

_ -D _

 

_ August 14th, _

_ D, _

_      So what you’re saying is that your father’s imprisonment makes you the head of your house? Shouldn’t that title just go to your mother since she’s older than you? I don’t really get the point of why that matters anyway. Sorry, I know my questions are frustrating. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of this. _

_      As much as I disagree with your father’s views I really don’t believe that murder was connected to him. It was just too...messy. I’ve been doing some research and only found one other documented case that was similar to what we witnessed. The spell used in that one was not a typical Imperius in the sense that the victim was fully conscious of what was happening while her body moved against her will. That leads me to believe this had to be some kind of possession curse.  _

_      Your father was with Arthur Weasley, so it was impossible he could have done it from that distance. It must have been a bystander in the crowd. Those were the only people close enough to her to execute the spell without an ungodly level of concentration. They’re pinning this on your father to stop the panic, which means he wasn’t as trusted with You-Know-Who as we thought. That would explain why you hadn’t overheard anything.  _

_ -H _

 

_ August 21st _

_ H, _

_      Things are at least settling down with school just around the corner. I’m sure you’re thrilled about that since you’ve always been such a know-it-all. The private rooms are a great touch for prefects. I swear the only reason you get better marks than me is because I can’t concentrate on my work when Crabbe is snoring.  _

_      Of course I was right about Weasel-Bee. Can’t believe it took all summer for his sister to hear him talking about it. I apologize for the lack of clever material today, but I haven’t slept in 28 hours with the investing companies breathing down my neck. It’s all politics. I’ll let my mother take on these day to day problems when we go back though since she can’t screw those up nearly as much.  _

_ -D _

 

_ August 30th _

_ D, _

_      I went to pick up my supplies from Diagon Alley this afternoon. There wasn’t really much to get since I’ve been reading these textbooks for months now. There isn’t a chance I’m letting the position of Head Girl fall into someone else’s hands next year. Anyway, this will be my last letter until school. Things pretty hectic around here, so I guess I’ll see you in the prefect carriage.  _

_ -H _

_ P.s. You best not be a prat this year. _

 

     Hermione was torn from her reminiscing by an unfamiliar pattern of knocking on her door. She dropped open book on the table and hurried to the door. There was no way to see who it was without opening the door, so she tried to only open it by a sliver. However, the moment she did it was pushed open by Lavender Brown who waltzed into her room like she owned the place.

     “This room is so lovely! Oh, I’m so jealous of you, Hermione!” Lavender exclaimed while proceeding to touch everything in sight. That’s odd, Lavender wasn’t supposed to come until dinner. 

     “Oh, um sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting you until a little later.” Lavender turned her head towards Hermione with a confused look.

     “I said I was coming at 8 didn’t I?” 

     “From what I remember, yes.” 

     “It’s almost 8:30 now. Are you feeling well, Hermione?” Lavender asked.

     Confusion swept over Hermione. It wasn’t possible that it was already so late. Only an hour or two passed since she’d gotten here after all. She was about to argue with the girly witch, but stopped mid sentence when she saw the lowering sun just starting to dip below the horizon. The curtains had been open on the large window the entire time, yet Hermione hadn’t noticed until now how far the sun had moved across the sky. 

     Trying not to freak out over the loss of time, Hermione took a deep breath and thought carefully about what she did today after she got there. Her books and school supplies had been unpacked, she read over some of Draco’s letters from the summer, she… That was it. That’s  _ all  _ she remembered doing today. Could she really have gotten lost in thought for that long?

     “Yeah, of course I am Lavender. I just got caught up in a book is all. You know how I am when I find something good to read.” Hermione laughed nervously, trying to play it off like nothing was wrong. 

     “That  _ does _ look like quite the interesting book.” She followed Lavender’s eyes to the book of letters before they both looked at each other. Time stopped for a moment and Hermione felt her heart leap into her chest. She did not want someone else reading those,  _ especially _ the head of the castle gossip. Before she could do anything, Lavender lunged for the first one she could, snatching up an envelope from the center of the pile.  

     “Lavender,” Hermione said slowly, feeling the terror wash through her veins, “those are private. Don’t you dare.” 

     “Oooh private, huh?” she teased while turning it over in her hand. “How come they don’t have addresses on them? Someone trying to hide a scandalous love affair?” 

     “No, Lavender, they’re just from a friend. Now give it back.” she made an attempt to grab it, but Lavender was too quick. 

     “This is quite the interesting seal here.” she started to move away from Hermione quickly while talking. “Looks rather expensive for a friend. We’ll have to find out now, won’t we?” 

     The moment the parchment left the envelope, all hell broke loose. Hermione bolted at Lavender who took off before she had gotten even close. Two girls running in circles around the room, one laughing the other screaming. 

     “ _ July 25th _ ,” she read while running. “ _ You don’t have to act all defensive. Just admit that you love it when I’m so vulgar. Bet you’re moist at just the thought of it. _

_ -D”  _

     Hermione’s face was beet red, partially from the running, but mostly because Lavender couldn’t have picked a worse letter to read. Draco was constantly saying things to make her uncomfortable, and it’s not like Lavender could read the lashing she sent in response. Although, after that it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. They stopped running when the blonde witch was finished. 

     “I knew it! You’re sleeping with him! Who would have guessed Gryffindor’s prefect was such a little minx after all.” 

     “I’m not sleeping with anyone! I haven’t even dated anyone seriously. Besides you have no evidence that Draco is even the person that wrote that.” Lavender grinned wickedly. 

     “I never said it was Draco, but now I know it's true.” she said triumphantly. Hermione cursed under her breath when she realised her verbal mishap. There was no way she’d convince her now. Draco was going to be pissed when he found out. 

     “It’s really not what it looks like. He was just trying to make me embarrassed. We aren’t dating or sleeping together, we’re just sort of friends.” 

     “Just sort of friends? You can keep denying it Hermione, but I don’t even talk to my friends like that.” 

     “Can we please just drop this? There isn’t anything going on and I’d really appreciate if this didn’t leave here. I really don’t want to deal with the rumors right now.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair, wincing slightly as it pulled on a tender spot. 

     Lavender observed her for a few seconds noting the pitiful look in the other girl’s eyes. Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate to share a good juicy story, but there was far too much circumstantial evidence here for anyone to believe what Lavender had to say. Hermione was just too much off a goody two shoes in the eyes of the student body. No, Lavender needed more proof before pinning this all on her. And maybe once she did, Ron would see once and for all that Lavender was much better for him than a bushy haired bookworm. 

     “I suppose that could be arranged… but it will cost you.” 

     “Ugh, alright. Fine. What do you want?” The brunette asked, expecting the worst.

     “You have to let me fix that mangled hair of yours tonight. AND next Hogsmeade trip we’re going shopping with Ginny to fix your lack of a wardrobe.” Hermione glanced at the clock to see how much time she had to spare. 

     “As long as you can finish by 9:45 then okay. You have a deal.” She went over and sat across from the large mirror with a huff. 

     “Ohhh I understand. Off for a secret rendezvous before bed. Shh! I won’t tell a soul.” 

     “Thanks, I guess?”

     “But now I’m sooo going to do a little more than just your hair. You’ll have to borrow something from my closet too.” 

 

     What had Hermione gotten herself into?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah Hermione and Draco are ~something~ Friends is probably the best term (FOR THE TIME BEING wink wink). Lavender sure seems to be doing a lot so far which I didn't really plan so just know she's not got a really major role in the upcoming chapters. I just wanted to show that each character has their own personality by portraying Lavender's kind of shallow and greedy motives. AND I'M SORRY I know i didn't get to the juicy Riddle bits but ya'll need to have a little more backstory peppered in. It wouldn't be realistic for them to get along without time being involved.


	4. Shrinking Potion #9

     A deep groan of bells echoed from the courtyard, finding their way up to even the tallest tower of Hogwarts. Each solemn tone cut through the air as a final warning that it was past curfew. From the tall spire where Draco paced, the sounds seemed to be merely a whisper amongst his pacing feet. A quiet reminder of the person absent from the late night meeting. It was 11 o’clock according to the bells. A whole hour later than when Draco and Hermione were scheduled to meet.   

     He was furious in those first 20 minutes she didn’t show. How dare she ignore him after all they had built this summer. It’s not like it had been easy for him. It’s not like anything about Hermione had been easy for him. She was the exact kind of person his father raised him to hate, and he had broken those chains for her. He had done it all because SHE unknowingly made him question the ideals that surrounded everything he knew. It hurt him that she apparently didn’t care as much about this as he did. And he hated that. 

     He wasn’t supposed to care about her at all. He wasn’t supposed to be sticking his neck out to write her letters or check up on her. He wasn’t supposed to be risking the exposure of the news getting back to all those whom his father had connections with. He wasn’t supposed to hide his true self from everyone in his life to protect his kind’s enemy. He wasn’t supposed to risk his life for a girl who three months ago would have favored him less than dirt on her shoes. Yet, he was doing all these things, and  _ she  _ wasn’t there. 

     Of course, he knew this was all his fault for returning her stupid wand. Things wouldn’t have really changed much just from the ministry alone. Perhaps nod here or there, a knowing glimpse or shared look of understanding because they _ saw _ something together. That would have been the end of it. He would ultimately still be the villain to her little Golden Trio since she would never had seen enough of him for her to detach herself from that hive mind. Truthfully, Draco was always prepared for that to be the case which is why he thought nothing of amicably returning Hermione’s lost wand. But the moment he saw that little white scroll in his owl’s foot, he knew things were going to be different. At least, for him they would be. 

     The night air was at least refreshing to his senses while he waited. Draco suspected she wouldn’t show after 30 minutes, but he stayed anyway. That hated trickle of hope rooted him to that tower to wait for the never late Hermione Granger. Something must have prevented her from coming on time. She would never just ditch him on purpose. They were friends, sort of. Things had at least changed, right?  He paced for another 30 until the bells finally told him what he had been dreading: she wasn’t coming. 

     After the castle fell silent once more he moved to the balcony that overlooked the grounds. The new moon cast a dark shadow that left the view before him a rather pathetic muddled grey. The stars that usually were masked behind the brilliant shine of moonlight were the only light Draco could see for miles. Rather than return to his rooms he let himself get lost in them. Looking for the answers that he would never speak. 

     A rustling by the door snapped him back into reality. Draco quickly ducked into the shadows, pulling the black hood of his robes over his platinum hair just as someone he barely recognized entered the room. She stepped in timidly with each hand hugging her red lined robe to her body with desperation. When she whipped her head around to scan the area, Draco noticed the way her soft curls shined like they never had before. Her skin looked more even and vibrant, making her cherry red lips stand out even more. Her eyes were no longer held by purple bags, but supported by pink powder and black liner. She was beautiful, but wholeheartedly not Hermione. 

     “Look what the cat dragged in,” the long drawl startled Hermione, who had come to the conclusion Draco had left without her. 

     She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. After all, she  _ was _ over an hour late. Lavender sure had kept her promise about doing a little more than just her hair. Not only did Hermione have to sit through the painful process of taming her tangled mane, but she also had to endure quite the lengthy makeover. Part of which included the saucy little number she was desperately trying to keep hidden with her robes. In total, it had taken them up until 10:15 to finish everything, so Hermione had no time to change before she rushed out of the Gryffindor tower to the corridors below. 

 

     Hermione found herself running as soon as the portrait door closed behind her. She couldn’t BELIEVE how late she was. Draco would be furious if he wasn’t too busy laughing at the way she was dressed. She could already hear the patronizing remarks he was sure to have. The thought made her speed up until a familiar tapestry came into view. Her feet slowed, skitting completely to a halt in front of Barnabas the Barmy. She had unconsciously made her way to the very place she had been the night before. The Room of Requirement. 

     The blank wall stared at her, causing a shiver to slide up her spine. The voice from last night echoed in her head, taunting her to step inside and see the monster she created. Almost on cue, the door grew before her as more and more memories flooded into Hermione’s brain. 

**_“It’s finally nice to make your acquaintance, Hermione.”_ **

**_This was not what she envisioned when she had come up with this plan over the summer. He was supposed to be a sparring partner. A means for her to familiarize herself with the enemy without truly putting herself in danger. But she was in danger. It crackled in the air, sizzling away at Hermione’s nerves as she looked at the teenager above her. The unsettlingly normal looking teenager._ **

**_He looked nothing like the man he was now. Pale ivory skin, neat black hair, perfectly pressed Slytherin robes. The only thing that would let Hermione know something wrong was the twisted grin illuminated by her wand._ **

**_“Not one for talking? Don’t worry, I don’t mind.”_ **

**_He examined the wand in his hand once more before flicking it once above his head. One by one the braziers came to life, casting the room in a sickly green glow from the mouths of snakes in which lined the walls. At the end, surrounded by a pool of water was the large stone statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, whose stone eyes showed nothing but contempt for the muggleborn by the door. The room Hermione had conjured as a training ground had made a perfect replica of what she could only assume was the chamber of secrets._ **

**_Tom offered her a hand suddenly, causing her to recoil against the door. He sighed, retracting the offer and putting his hands behind is back before turning to look at the room around them._ **

**_“It is so nice to be back here after so long. I really should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity.”_ **

**_“It’s not like I was trying to do this.”_ **

**_It was the first time Hermione had the courage to speak. Using the door to lean on she was able to rise shakily to her feet. It was true she was trying to make Tom, there was no deny that. However, she had pictured it much like how it was last year. A clean, well lit training room where she would have to continuously battle it out with wizard kind’s greatest enemy. Obviously, the room didn’t work exactly how she thought it did, which made this entire situation even more dangerous._ **

**_“Perhaps this is not what you envisioned, but it’s a tremendous feat no less,” he remarked casually. “Oh the things I could have done with this room if I knew it had the power to create actual people.”_ **

**_“You’re talking as if you’ve been here before.” Hermione’s timid voice drawing Tom’s attention back to her. His charming grin caught her off guard._ **

**_“Well of course I have, when I was alive anyway. At least, alive in this state.” His voice laced with annoyance as he looked down at his robes._ **

**_“That means you’re not alive now?” Hermione asked a little too desperately._ **

**_“If you want to be technical about it , no I am not alive. Merely a projection that this room has conjured of 6th year Tom Marvolo Riddle. However, for the sake of simplicity we can pretend otherwise. After all I do share all his thoughts and memories thanks to that little diary you managed to snag. It’s probably the basilisk venom soaked pages that brought us here after all.” He gestured to the chamber around them._ **

**_She hated to admit it, but he did make a lot of sense. He wasn’t actually the same man who tormented these halls. They weren’t actually in the infamous chamber of secrets. This was all made per her request, which meant in a way she could control it. That thought made her a little more comfortable, despite the chill she felt from his stare._ **

**_“I suppose what you’re saying could be true, even if it doesn’t feel like it is.”_ **

**_“Exactly. This room was made for one thing and one thing only.” He threw her wand at her with his left hand while drawing another with his right. She clumsily caught it just as he took a fighting stance._ **

**_“To train you.”_ **

     The clamour of the clocktower shook her and the looming door shrunk once again to nothing. Oh no, she’d gotten lost in thought again, and now she was even later than before. All thoughts of the room aside, she took off once more while trying to keep her robe securely around her. Ten minutes after the 11th chime had dimmed she arrived at the tallest tower in Hogwarts, her lungs burning from the long journey. 

 

     “I’m so sorry I’m late, Draco. I’m surprised you’re even still here.” 

     “I am as well.” He pushed off of the cold wall to stare once more over the balcony, avoiding the witch’s apologetic smile. There was silence for a moment while Hermione nervously picked at her nails. Without moving, Draco spoke first.

     “What’s wrong with you, Hermione? Why do you look so different?” 

     “Oh it’s silly, “she began, jumping on the start of conversation. “Lavender insisted I start ‘looking the part of the Gryffindor Princess’ or something. I know I look ridiculous, and I’m still really sorry for being so late. It’s just you know how she gets.” 

     Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before finally turning to look at her. The robes she wore had fallen open enough for him to notice the lacy red dress that laid beneath. It was scandalously short, and really looked like more of a nightie than a dress. He assumed it must have been Lavender even though he was curious as to why she even knew Hermione was going out. 

     “I’m not talking about the makeup, Hermione. I’m talking about you. Why do  _ you _ look so different when you said things have been well?”

     “Oh. That.” She shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting once again with her hands while she thought of an excuse. “Just a little sick really. I’m sure it’ll clear up soon.”

     “You’re really going to keep lying to me? Granger, you’re practically skin and bones. It looks like you haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. On top of that there’s what happened today with Pansy. You acted like a completely different person. Something is going on and you’re going to tell me right now.” 

     “I’m fine, really.” Even to her it sounded weak. She wrapped the red and black fabric around her once more, except this time trying to hide the jutting bones of her hips and ribs. 

     “Bullshit,” he spat, getting closer to her now. “You’re hiding something and you’re going to tell me what it is, or so help me Granger I will make sure you’re stuck in the infirmary for weeks.” 

     Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her feet. There’s no way she could tell him about the Room without knowing herself exactly what she made. It was too much of a gamble and he would see that in an instant. That kind of magic had never been done before, so it could have any number of unforeseen side effects. 

     “It’s just,” Hermione started, knowing what she was about to say was only a partial truth. “It’s just everything that happened this summer, it’s still really messing with me. Harry and Ron don’t believe it was really a death eater threat and I didn’t exactly want to worry you.” 

     “Of course those two idiots don’t believe you. That really doesn’t explain why you’re like this.” She took a deep breath. 

     “Well, I couldn’t just do nothing after seeing her die, Draco. I know what’s coming for us. For all of us. We need to prepare for this war and with Ron and Harry doing nothing that leaves me. All I’ve been doing this past summer is researching how we could possibly be ready for this war.” 

     “And?” His question caught her off guard. 

     “A-and what?” 

     “And what, exactly, is it that could possibly prepare you for that? A potion? A spell? What?” 

     “I-I-I’m not sure yet, but-” she stuttered out. 

     “No, Hermione, no ‘but’s’. I’ll tell you right now why you haven’t found anything that will help you. It’s because there isn’t anything. Okay? There isn’t a single thing that’s going to prepare anyone for this war except being in it. The best thing you could possibly do to help is get yourself together and finish school instead of wasting away. You can deal with everything else when it comes, but for now there’s nothing you can do.” 

     He left her there to think about all he had said. What a fool she had been to lie in their letters like the truth wouldn’t catch up to her. It really shouldn’t even bother her what he thought. Especially since she never tried to hide her worn appearance to her other friends, but she couldn’t help that it did. And in a way he was right. Hermione really  _ should _ be taking better care of herself. Right there on the Astronomy tower, she vowed to do so, even if it was only to ease suspicions of what she was really up to…

     Before Hermione returned to her rooms for the night, she made a quick to the owlery to finish one last errand.

 

     Breakfast the next morning was very similar to the one before. Loud chattering, food everywhere, owls zipping through the enchanted ceiling. The Golden Trio sat at the Gryffindor table in the same order they had before with Ginny and Lavender across from Hermione. Ron loaded his plate and began digging in while Harry tried to follow the conversation the two girls were having. All the while Hermione watched a small package drop across the hall in front of the blonde headed Slytherin. She smiled when he met her eyes across the room and popped a grape into her mouth. A symbol of peace after last night. 

     “Feeling better this morning, Hermione?” Ginny asked. Hermione’s eyes focused on the two girls who were now both waiting for a reply. 

     “Oh yeah! Much better now Gin, thanks for asking.”

     “I bet you are feeling much better, especially after last night.” Lavender quipped causing Hermione’s blood to run cold. 

     “What do you mean by that?” Harry inquired, listening in on his best friend’s conversation. 

     “Oh nothing,” Lavender said, “just that I’m sure she plenty of beauty rest is all. I mean, look at how much better her hair looks!” 

     “It does look more shiny,” Ginny said. 

     “And less bushy,” Harry added. 

     “And less matted,” Ron tried to say with food in his mouth. 

     “Alright! Time for me to get to class! I don’t want to be late for potions.” Hermione quickly scooped her bag off the ground and high tailed it out of the Great Hall. Besides, it was a better idea that she was anything but late to one of Snape’s classes. 

     Normally, there would have been more students in the potions classroom at that point in the morning. No one was quite immune to the scrutiny that was the Potions Master. But, it seemed as if the summer had still not quite left its grip on the students that second day, since none had bothered to get to class early. This left Hermione alone in the dungeon classroom, surrounded by countless bottles of brews. She was about to leave to wait outside when a strange man stopped her.

     “Ah! Is it class time already? The older I get the easier it is to lose track of time.” He brushed off a bit of crumbs from his brown, tweed robes and pulled a watch out of his breast pocket. 

     “Oh, I’m sorry I must have come to the wrong classroom. I’m supposed to have advanced potions with Professor Snape…” Hermione said from the doorway while she watched the strange man. He snapped his watch closed.

     “No wonder you look so confused! No one must have told you about me!” He chuckled. 

     “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” 

     “I’m Professor Slughorn. I’ll be talking over potions from now on. Come in, Come in. Set your things where you like, I won’t be assigning lab partners until after your first assignment!” 

     Slughorn ushered Hermione deeper into the classroom. This would explain why things looked so different than they had in previous years. The room seemed… lighter somehow, despite still being run by another Slytherin. She grabbed her copy of Advanced Potion making from her bag.

     “Oh! It seems you’ve purchased the wrong book. We’re using edition one not three. Not to worry, just grab an extra copy from the cupboard. What did you say your name was again?” 

     “It’s Hermione, sir,” she said as she bent down to retrieve the first book on the stack. “Hermione Granger.” 

     “Wonderful, wonderful! It’s lovely to meet you, Hermione. And look, just in time for the others.” 

     The rest of the students trickled in and soon the lesson was underway. Unlike Snape, Slughorn seemed to be much friendlier with the student body, albeit a little odd. He encouraged it when Hermione answered his questions and even went as far as awarding her points for doing so. She was so taken aback by the difference in her new potions professor that barely noticed that Draco was amongst the students in her class. 

     “Now, before I assign you to your partners I want to see just what you’ve got! I wouldn’t want to partner you with someone below or above your skill level after all. Today you’ll be brewing a Shrinking Solution. It is a moderately difficult potion that can shrink the user to a younger form. Shouldn’t be anything too difficult for my advanced students! Open your books to page 35 and be careful, getting it wrong can result in making a dangerous poison.” 

     Hermione wasted no time prepping her station. During this time she noticed Harry and Ron join them after being greeted by an all too happy Slughorn. She rolled her eyes as the two sheepishly made their way over to her table and plopped down. They opened their books to page 35 and began carefully working. Harry especially seemed to be paying close attention to the tiny print, which seemed strange considering he never had before. She brushed it off, opening her own book for the first time. 

     The paragraph with the instructions she needed had been scribbled out and rewritten to the side. Hermione’s brow furrowed and she glanced over at the copy in front of Harry. There were 14 steps that she could see listed in a normal black font, but there were only 11 written out in her book. 

     “Harry, are there anymore books left in the cupboard?” Hermione asked, seeing that her book had been defiled. 

     “Sorry Mione, Ron snagged the last one on our way in. Yours looks fine though. I’m sure it’ll work just the same.” The ink was so thick she couldn’t even make out the words that had been there previously. 

     “Do you mind if I look off yours then? I really don’t think I can use this.” 

     “There’s nothing wrong with your book, Hermione. Please, I’m trying to concentrate.” 

     Feeling vastly uncomfortable Hermione let it go. She would just have to follow the directions given. Surely Professor Slughorn would understand if it turned out her potion failed. He seemed nice enough to even let her try again after class if she needed to. The instructions read as so:

 

  * __Add five sliced caterpillars.__


  * _Heat till the potion turns red._


  * _Shake the peeled Shrivelfig until it is ready, failure to do so will result in a noxious green gas._


  * _Add peeled Shrivelfig until the potion turns yellow._


  * _Allow the potion to simmer till it turns purple._


  * _Add four rat spleens to the cauldron._


  * _Add the minced daisy roots till it turns green._


  * _Add five drops of leech juice._


  * _Add more of the Shrivelfig, this time till it turns pink._


  * _Add one sliced caterpillar._


  * _Allow the potion to simmer till it turns green._



 

     It seemed as if no one had done anything remotely similar to what she had done for her potion. All around her students were stirring their potions or waving their wands. Hermione had done neither of those things and it made her nervous. When everyone was done, Slughorn came around with a potted plant to examine and test each of their concoctions. 

     Almost every caldron was the same vibrant green, except Nevill’s of course, which had turned an ugly shade of pink. Results varied from person to person. Draco’s shrunk the plant to a mere sapling, which was praised as nearly perfect. Harry’s was almost as good as Draco’s with all but one leaf shrinking to the same size. Blaise Zabini’s potion killed the plant when added while Ron’s dissolved the dropper before it could even be applied to the plant. Soon Slughorn had made his way to her with a fresh new plant, thanks to Zabini, and took a dropper full of her potion. They watched as the green liquid coated the purple plant before it turned into a single seed before them. 

     “This is absolutely perfect. Well done Hermione! Ten points to Gryffindor for a such precise potion!” 

     Hermione was shocked. The strange directions had not only worked, but gave her a potion better than all the others. She took a second to flip through the pages, noticing the same kinds of changes throughout each chapter. Who on Earth made these changes? For now, Hermione didn’t have time to question. It was time to announce partners. 

     “...Harry you’re with McLaggen, Longbottom with Weasley, Parkinson with Zabini, and, ah! Of course, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, the two best potion makers of the day!.” 

     Slughorn finished leaving the whole class to look tersely between them. It was no secret the two had history. Their fights were legendary for their ferocity. For the professor to pair them was like lighting the fuse on a bomb without knowing how long it is. Sometime, sooner than later, it would blow. The only one who really knew the truth was Lavender, who seemed almost giddy at the idea they were to be partners. Hermione and Draco nodded once before respectively gathering their things to leave. 

     It seemed fate loved to push them together lately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? So soon? Why yes, of course. I promised you guys I'd tell you what happened with Tom. What are your initial reactions? How do you think it'll play out? And what is Hermione doing with that special copy of advanced potion making? Don't worry I have a plan (kind of) that'll blow your minds. Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and as always, enjoy the ride.   
> ~Ember


	5. Vita Sine Somnum

The worn pages of Advanced Potion Making felt scratchy under Hermione’s small hands. She perched stiffly at the foot of her bed, combing through the sacrilegious text with a bit of a scowl on her face. It seemed that no matter where she turned the same black script would be glaring at her in defiance. It made her vastly uncomfortable to look at it, as if something about the way botched cursive looked made her brain itch.  
Part of her wanted to throw the stupid thing out as soon as Potions had been dismissed that day. How was she supposed to study for her N.E.W.T’s when her textbook had been tampered with? Just because it had correctly produced a potion once doesn’t mean that Hermione should trust whomever the previous owner was. Besides, it was practically cheating to use it anyway! However, curiosity, as it usually did, got the best of Hermione. It was just far too tempting not to look through it at least once, even if it was only to confirm her suspicions that the text was worthless.  
So far, she had not been able to conclude the identity of the previous owner. The only thing Hermione could find was a small inscription claiming that the book belonged to someone with the title of “Half Blood Prince”. Sounded to her like whomever this bloke was, was pretty pretentious. Still, Hermione couldn’t deny that he must have been very talented in his craft to write in such detail. Assuming of course that it wasn’t all just nonsense.  
While her fingers instinctively traced the corners of the page she was on, Hermione let her mind wander to her last encounter with Draco. The tense air in Potions was enough to tell her just how mad he still was from the night before. It was understandable. She really had been daft to think that her recent emaciated form would slip under his radar unnoticed. Perhaps Hermione was still just trying to wrap her head around why he seemed to care at all about her well being.  
That was something that Hermione thought about a lot while Draco acted the part as her not-so-perfect penpal. Why did he care? It’s not like he had any obligation to reach out to her that summer, even if he did have her wand. She had long ruled out the idea he was doing it simply for entertainment. Although it seemed like he just meant to irritate her at first, Draco’s letters became much too personal for his motivation to be so transparent. Hermione also doubted it was because of what happened at the Ministry, even though she considered that to be at least partially the reason she felt compelled to respond to him. Despite many outlandish theories she came up with, none of them seemed to really explain why the two former enemies suddenly found solace in each others words. All the Gryffindor knew was that he had unexplainably become something important to her. Something she did not want to lose.  
Hermione pursed her lips in thought. The memory of her silent vow replayed in her head from the night before. Somehow she had to start taking better care of herself again. It was just a matter of how. Eating would be easy enough, when she got the time. After months of grueling nausea, Hermione had managed to eat small amounts without wanting to hurl. That alone would only be enough to keep her body functioning, it wouldn’t aid in weight gain. Luckily she could substitute missed meals with a sip or two of Replenishing Potion. Sleeping, however, wouldn’t be as simple.  
If it was just a matter of her night terrors, Draco’s many vials of Dreamless Sleep would work like a charm. Hermione already proved that to be so on the occasion she just couldn’t take the images anymore. The problem was that she simply didn’t have time. Her prefect duties were much more extensive than previously thought, and would occupy most of her evenings with patrol duties. It also meant there was even more pressure on her to maintain her nearly perfect grade point average, especially since Hermione would rather die than have anyone else be chosen as Head Girl next year. Therefore, all her freetime during the day would need to be devoted to studying as much as she could.  
Nights were also… not an option. It was the only time she could visit the Room of Requirement without being disturbed. As much as it scared her, Hermione itched to return to the wraith she created. It was an imperative for her nightly visits to continue if she was to truly perfect her craft. That being said, her training hours left her exhausted with virtually no time devoted to rest. Hermione knew without that key element her body would only continue to deteriorate at an alarming rate. Any more than it already had and she was sure people would start asking questions, which was simply NOT an option this early on into her plan. It seemed she was at an impasse.  
A sharp pain ricocheted through Hermione’s index finger as it haphazardly grazed the sharp corner of a page. She yelped in surprise, catapulting the book to the floor. It landed facedown with a shallow thud while Hermione brought her injured appendage closer to her face to examine the damage. A thin red line had already appeared on the pad of her finger where the aged paper cut her. With her other hand she gently squeezed her index and watched as it became speckled with tiny drops of crimson.  
Closing her eyes, she shook her head slightly to remove the cloudiness that had suddenly overcome her. Hermione let go and brought her injury to her lips. She sucked lightly on the cut while her other hand was busy rifling through her robes for her wand. It was such a minor cut that when she was finally able to cast a small healing charm on it it all but disappeared from her skin, leaving only a hair-thin white line to blend with the groves of her finger print.  
Hermione rubbed her eyes with her palms, effectively blocking out the dim lighting in her room. It was nearly 12 o’clock and the sun had long set below the horizon. The tiny speckling of stars patterned against the ajar curtains was the only other light in the room apart from the randomly placed candles that she had lit after she returned from the great hall.  
It was supposed to be her first night on prefect duty, but after the altercation with Pansy Parkinson, McGonagall had altered the schedule personally until it was decided that the Slytherin’s probation period was over. Instead, Harry would be taking her place with Parkinson for this evening. Hermione felt a little bad that Harry would have to deal with the snotty brat, but she was secretly thrilled that she wouldn’t have to do it herself. Plus, this gave Hermione the perfect opportunity to plan out how she was supposed to maintain some semblance of order in her life before her training really kicked off. Not that she was getting anywhere.  
Her hands slid down her face and dropped limply at her sides. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, dragging her below the surface to choke on its salty water. Hermione’s limbs felt so heavy from the struggle. Her eyes burned from the long hours they stared unblinkingly at the world around her. She was so tired of fighting the current, only to get pulled right back under. Maybe she should get let herself drown…  
Taking a deep breath, she shook the thought from her head. Failure wasn’t an option with this. She was going to succeed, whether she destroyed herself in the process or not. Either way it would all be worth it in the end if it helped take down Voldemort.  
Looking around the room her tired eyes found the discarded textbook at her feet. She had completely forgotten that she had even dropped it. Careful to avoid the edges this time, Hermione plucked the open tome off the floor and rotated it in her hands to check what page it had landed on. When she examined the pages they appeared to be just as hectic as the other recipes had been: bold black lines running through text, arrows inserting comments into explanation, and notes littering the side columns.  
“Vita Sine Somnum,” Hermione whispered to herself.  
She scoffed internally at the title of the page. Hermione was almost certain that they had gotten that latin wrong in some way or another. It always baffled her how limited knowledge of the latin language was for most people in the Wizarding World. Since most spells were based in that language, she always figured people would have a better understand of simple conjugation. Either way, Hermione was able to roughly translate the meaning. Life Without Sleep.  
Hermione had never been one to really believe in divination or fate, but in that moment it certainly felt like it had to be more than a mere coincidence that she had stumbled upon this book. Immediately, her eyes were glued to the paragraph under the title, or at least what was left of it.  
“Vita Sine Somnum. In 1804 the Wizarding World was a much different place than it is today. While in modern society there is still certainly blood prejudice, it paled in comparison to how much more extreme it was in the 1800’s. Even though Muggleborns were allowed to attend the same facilities as Purebloods and Halfbloods, they were not treated as equals. Wizards and witches of higher blood purity were much more open about their blatant racism towards these individuals.”  
The next paragraph or two were crossed out, making Hermione half to jump down to the bottom of the page.  
“Lord Lecter Prospero was among these Pureblood Supremacists. However, unlike some of the other members, Lord Prospero had the gift of an old name. This gave him power at that time that would go unquestioned, which is how he was able to get away with all that he did.  
“It is confirmed that Lord Prospero was behind the disappearances of more than 100 Muggleborns. However, it is estimated that the true number was much closer to 500, and was covered up to avoid a scandal. He would target primarily younger witches between the ages of 13-25 who were born to muggle parents.”  
Hermione once more skipped down over the even more aggressively scribbled out words.  
“After he was finished with them that way-”  
She stopped for a moment, trying to let the churning in her stomach subside. Hermione had a strong feeling she knew what way they were referring to, but thanked Merlin this Half Blood Prince had the decency to save her from reading about it.  
“After he was finished with them in that way, Lord Prospero would perform tortuous magical experiments on his victims. One of which was a particular brew he created specifically to induce severe insomnia when consumed. Prospero made several different variations before he was eventually caught and tried in 1825.  
By the last variation Lord Prospero had created a potion that would not only keep his victims conscious even through extreme pain, but would also induce hysteria, hallucinations, heart palpitations-”  
The rest of what Hermione assumed was an extremely long list of side effects was blackened before it opened back up into the last paragraph.  
“Lord Prospero’s potion was later developed into what we know today as Vita Sine Somnum, or Life Without Sleep. It is a potion that can effectively reinvigorate the body in absence of sleep. It is mostly used under the close supervision of a Mediwitch or Mediwizard for concussions and different medical cases. It is not recommended that anyone accept a licenced potion master attempt to brew this on their own since it can be highly addictive and can induce hysteria if made incorrectly.”  
Below was a list of ingredients and instructions written out in blue ink, then revised in red. Clearly whoever this Half Blood Prince guy was made it a few times.  
Hermione felt a little uneasy after reading what she had. Why would they even include this in a textbook? It was obvious this potion had a clear link to dark magic, which isn’t something a group of students need access to. It no longer felt like such a blessing to have found. She bit down on her bottom lip and skimmed the ingredient list.  
“Alihotsy, Ginseng, Beetle Eye, Boom Berry, Dittany, Snake Fangs, Wolfsbane, Dried Billywig Stings”  
Well, she had to admit that the ingredients looked rather tame for something that was supposedly made by some serial murderer. It’s possible that Hermione even had all of those on hand in her potions kit. While it was true that Alihotsy could be tricky, it didn’t seem like anything more difficult than brewing polyjuice potion in her second year. Surely any potion with Ginseng as a main ingredient couldn’t be too harmful…  
No. It was wrong to use that type of potion and she knew it. No matter how beneficial or easy it looked. The risks of taking it completely outweighed the benefits…  
Or did they? Hadn’t she just told herself earlier she would do anything it took if it meant defeating the Dark Lord? It didn’t matter how uncomfortable Hermione was with the idea, if it meant it would help her cause, she’d have to do it. After all she was the brightest witch of her age, what could go wrong?

Hermione Granger was like night and day, and it was pissing Draco off. He hadn’t really talked to her since the confrontation in the astronomy tower, despite her best efforts to get his attention. It seemed that she had taken his words to heart. Even from across the great hall he could tell that Hermione wasn’t the same girl who stepped off the train 2 weeks ago.  
It was obvious even when she was wearing robes that she had gained some weight back. Draco knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed either when everyday it seemed her skirt was getting shorter and her shirt was getting tighter. He didn’t know why she insisted on using her 4th year robes for two years straight, but at the moment he wasn’t complaining. It was simply too amusing to watch that ginger git fidget with her around. Draco wondered momentarily if anyone else realized what Weasley was doing.  
The smirk from his face dropped when his eyes locked with hers from across the room. She tried to supply a small smile in his direction before turning to answer a question from one of the bitchy blondes across from her. Draco frowned. Something wasn’t quite right with her. He could see it as soon as her hazel eyes came into view. He already found it suspicious how rapidly she seemed to be recovering. He was pretty sure not even Madam Pomfrey could reproduce such quick results. So, the fact that he could also see the guilt swimming in her eyes only confirmed his suspicions. She was still up to something, and he would be damned if he didn’t find out what.  
Deciding there was nothing more for him in the great hall, Draco got up to leave. He provided a mediocre excuse Pansy and Blaise before walking out of the giant double doors. Hopefully whatever he said was good enough to keep Pansy from following him. Right now, he just wanted to be alone.  
Unwillingly, Draco’s thoughts shifted back to the bushy haired Gryffindor. They seemed to be doing that a lot more lately. That girl was always lurking in the back of his mind, waiting to chastise him at every corner. He could almost hear her condescending voice now.  
“Too scared to face me, Malfoy?”  
He rolled his eyes at the mocking voice and continued walking to an unknown destination. His dragon leather boots scuffled across the ancient stone floors as he prepared to turn the corner.  
“What, so are you just too good for a Mudblood now?” Her voice rang out once more, upsetting his silent brooding.  
Draco halted dead in his tracks, taking note that the tapping of shoes continued for a pace after he stopped. Whipping around, he had to fight the urge to shield his eyes from her vibrant red cheeks. Hermione Granger stood ridged before him with her hands balled tightly into fists. Her bushy mane seemed to bristle with the anger radiating off her as she glared at him definitely.  
“What are you prattling on about?” He replied leaning his head to the side to make it look like he was uninterested. In reality his eyes darted quickly around the corner into the next hall to check for any incoming students. However, this was clearly the wrong approach to take.  
“What am I prattling on about?” She scoffed, “Are you actually serious right now? You know exactly what I mean!”  
“Can we not do this right now?” Draco whispered, glancing down the hall once more in hope that Hermione’s rising voice didn’t draw attention to them.  
Hermione’s face scrunched up as she watched his eyes dart around the corner. Without warning she quickly closed the short distance between them and grabbed the front of his robes.  
“What the bloody hell are you-” Draco’s sentence was cut short by Hermione shoving him to the left the stone wall.  
He put his hand out to brace against the cobblestone, but stumbled when it passed through it completely. Hermione followed him into the hidden alcove, determined to find out why he continued to toy with her. It was difficult for her to remain that way, however, since the only thing she wanted to do was laugh when she saw him. Somehow he’d managed to end up on the floor once he past through, leaving his robes flipped over his head.  
Once he had righted himself, Draco managed to look around at the alcove he had been pushed in. It looked just like an extension of the hall he had been in previous, but with a line of torches where windows would have been normally. The end was nowhere in sight, but from the slope he felt under his boots he strongly suspected it lead to somewhere in the dungeons. The wall he had passed through seemed to no longer be there either, since he could clearly see where they had come from. How had he missed this?  
“No one can see us,” Hermione said, seemingly reading his thoughts, “so you don’t have worry about anyone catching you with a Mudblood.”  
That was the second time she called herself that in five minutes, and Draco visibly stiffened at the slur. Surely, she wouldn’t just throw that around if there wasn’t still something wrong with her. He sighed, “What do you want Hermione?”  
“What I want,” she replied, “ Is to know why you seem so hellbent on pretending I don’t exist. Clearly I’m getting better, which is what you wanted me to do, so why won’t you even spare me a full sentence in potions?”  
“Do you think I’m fucking daft, Granger?” Draco’s question was full of bite, taking her off guard. “Nobody can just bounce back like that. I don’t know how you did it, but I can tell you’re still up to something, so save your fucking excuses.”  
“Why do you even care?” She countered, asking the one question she couldn’t even answer for herself.  
“Because it's clear that whatever this secret is that you’re keeping is destroying you. When will you get it through your thick skull that you don’t have to go through it alone?”  
“Oh, so I should just trust all my secrets with you then? The son of a known death eater, and member of an openly racist house. Yeah, that seems like a great plan, Malfoy.”  
The terse silence that followed while they took in her words made Hermione regret them. She had gone too far when he was only trying to help her. Not even Harry and Ron were trying to do what Draco was, so why did she have to push him out completely?  
“I’m sorry,” she said after a while. Her apology served as a metaphorical olive branch between them, even if it didn’t make up for everything.  
“It’s fine,” he stated, even though it was clear it was not. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”  
“No, it’s alright, you were just concerned.”  
He nodded in response and let his eyes drift over to a group of students walking by. They laughed lightheartedly, completely unaware of the two 6th years watching them pass. Breakfast was probably getting out soon. People didn’t normally come this way until about ten minutes before it did.  
“Why can’t you tell me, Hermione?” he whispered, “What is so damn scary that you can’t talk about?”  
“I can’t, Draco, I just can’t,” she sighed,”I’m allowed to have secrets you know. It’s not like you don’t have any.”  
He nodded at her once more, seemingly lost in thought, before walking out into the crowd of people that flooded the hall. Neither of them realized that, in that moment, both were pushed further down the paths they would take. One down the path of light, and the other into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god I finally got this chapter out. It was killing me not to be able to post for so long. That being said this is kind of a filler chapter while I try and get back into the groove of writing. Thanks to everyone who left a review. The guilt I feel while reading them is enough to get my lazy ass to write. That being said, I think I'm going to take a little darker turn than I anticipated, so hopefully I don't scare anyone off.

**Author's Note:**

> It might seem a little complex right now but I'll clear up a lot of the confusion in chapters to come. It helps me to write a lot faster with more support and reviews so if you've got anything to say, good or bad, I'd love to hear it. Everything you guys say lets me know how to improve and adapt my writing. I can't wait to take you guys on this story with me because boy do I have some things planned.  
> ~Ember


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